LIBRARY 


THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIEORNIA 

SANTA  BARBARA 

PRESENTED  BY 

ANNA  WORTH  HANNELL 


HENRY  VI.— Part  II. 


THE  WORKS  OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKESPEARE 


FROM    THE    TEXT    OF    THE  REV.  ALEXANDER  DYCe's 

FOURTH    EDITION,   WITH    AN    ARRANGEMENT 

OF    HIS    GLOSSARY. 


IN  EIGHT  VOLUMES 


VOL.    L 


NEW  YORK 

INTERNATIONAL   BOOK   CO. 

PUBLISHERS 


TITUS   ANDRONICUS. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 


kinsmen 
Titus. 


to 


sons    to    Ta- 
mora. 


Sempronius, 

Caius, 

Valentine, 

/Emilius,  a  noble  Roman. 

Alarbus, 

Demetrius 

Chiron, 

Aaron,  a   Moor,    beloved  by 

Tamora. 
A  Captain,  Tribune,   Messen- 

ger,  and  Clown. 
Romans  and  Goths. 

Tamora,  Queen  of  the  Goths. 
Lavinia,    daughter   to    Titus 

Andronicus. 
A  Nurse,  and  a  Black  Child. 


Saturninus,  son  to  the  late 
Emperor  of  Rome,  and  af- 
terwards declared  emperor. 

Bassianus,  brother  to  Satur- 
ninus ;  in  love  with  La- 
vinia. 

Titus  Andronicus,  a  noble 
Roman,  general  against  the 
Goths. 

Marcus  Andronicus,  tribune 
of  the  people,  and  brother 
to  Titus. 

Lucius,      ^ 

QuiNTUS,     I   sons     to     Titus 

Martius,     [       Andronicus. 

MUTIUS,       J 

Young  Lucius,  a  boy,  son  to 

Lucius. 
PuBLius,    son  to    Marcus  the 
tribune. 

Senators,  Tribunes,  Officers,  Soldiers,  and  Attendants. 

Scene —  Rome  ind  the  country  near  it. 

ACT  L 

Scene  L  Rome.     Befoi'e  the  Capitol. 

The  Tomb  of  the  Andronici  appearing  ;  the  Tribunes 
and  Senators  aloft.     Enter,  beloiv,  from  one  side, 
Saturninus   and  his    Followers;    and, from 
the  other  side,   Bassianu.S  and  his  Fol- 
lowers ;  with  drums  and  colors. 
Sat.  Noble  patricians,  patrons  of  my  right, 
Defend  the  justice  of  my  cause  with  arms ; 
And,  countrymen,  my  loving  followers, 

T.A.3.1  I.  ^ 


A  ci  I.}  TI TUS  A  NDRON/CCS.  {.Scene  I. 

Plead  my  successive  title  with  your  swords : 
I  am  his  first-born  son,  that  was  the  last 
That  wore  th'  imperial  diadem  of  Rome ; 
Then  let  my  father's  honors  live  in  me, 
Nor  wrong  mine  age  with  this  indignity. 

Bus.    Romans, —  friends,   followers,    favorers     of   my 
right,— 
If  ever  Bassianus,  Cesar's  son, 
Were  gracious  in  the  eyes  of  royal  Rome, 
Keep,  then,  this  passage  to  the  Capitol; 
And  suffer  not  dishonor  to  approach 
Th'  imperial  seat,  to  virtue  consecrate, 
To  justice,  continence,  and  nobility  : 
But  let  desert  in  pure  election  shine ; 
And,  Romans,  fight  for  freedom  in  your  choice. 

Enter  MARCUS  Andronicus,  aloft,  with  the  crown. 

Marc.  Princes, —  that  strive  by  factions  and  by  friends 
Ambitiously  for  rule  and  empery, — 
Know  that  the  people  of  Rome,  for  whom  we  stand 
A  special  party,  have,  by  common  voice, 
In  election  for  the  Roman  empery. 
Chosen  Andronicus,  surnamed  Pius 
For  many  good  and  great  deserts  to  Rome : 
A  nobler  man,  a  braver  warrior. 
Lives  not  this  day  within  the  city  walls: 
He  by  the  senate  is  accited  home 
From  weary  wars  against  the  barbarous  Goths  ; 
That,  with  his  sons,  a  terror  to  our  foes. 
Hath  yok'd  a  nation  strong,  train'd  up  in  arms. 
Ten  years  are  spent  since  first  he  undertook 
This  cause  of  Rome,  and  chastised  with  arms 
Our  enemies'  pride  :  five  times  he  hath  return'd 
Bleeding  to  Rome,  bearing  his  valiant  sons 
In  coffins  from  the  field  ; 
And  now  at  last,  laden  with  honor's  spoils, 
Returns  the  good  Andronicus  to  Rome, 
Renowned  Titus,  nourishing  in  arms. 
Let  us  entreat, —  by  honor  of  his  name, 
Whom  worthily  you  would  have  now  succeed, 
And  in  the  Ca])itol  and  senate's  right. 
Whom  you  pretend  to  honor  and  adore, — 
That  you  withdraw  you,  and  ahalc  your  strength  ; 

1.4.  [t.a.4. 


Act  /.]  TITUS  ANDROX/CUS.  (,Swm»  1. 

Dismiss  your  followers,  and,  as  suitors  should. 
Plead  your  deserts  in  peace  and  humbleness. 

Sat.  How  fair  the  tribune  speaks  to  calm  my  thoughts  ! 

Bas.   Marcus  Andronicus,  so  I  do  affy 
In  thy  uprightness  and  integrity. 
And  so  I  love  and  honor  thee  and  thine. 
Thy  noble  brother  Titus  and  his  sons, 
And  her  to  whom  my  thoughts  are  humbled  all, 
Gracious  Lavinia,  Rome's  rich  ornament, 
That  I  will  here  dismiss  my  loving  friends ; 
And  to  my  fortunes  and  the  people's  favor 
Commit  my  cause  in  balance  to  be  weigh'd. 

[Exeunt  the  Followers  of  Bassianus. 

Sat.  Friends,  that  have  been  thus  forward  in  my  right, 
I  thank  you  all,  and  here  dismiss  you  all ; 
And  to  the  love  and  favor  of  my  countrj' 
Commit  myself,  my  person,  and  the  cause. 

[Exeunt  the  Followers  of  Saturninus. 
Rome,  be  as  just  and  gracious  unto  me 
As  I  am  confident  and  kind  to  thee. — 
Open  the  gates,  and  let  me  in. 

Bas.  Tribunes,  and  me,  a  poor  competitor. 

[Flourish.     Saturninus  and  Bassianus  go 
up  into  the  Capitol. 
Enter  a  Captain. 

Cap.  Romans,  make  way  :  the  good  Andronicus, 
Patron  of  virtue,  Rome's  best  champion. 
Successful  in  the  battles  that  he  fights, 
With  honor  and  with  fortune  is  return'd 
From  where  he  circumscribed  with  his  sword. 
And  brought  to  yoke,  the  enemies  of  Rome. 

J)ruins  and  trumpets  sounded.     Enter   Martius  and 

M  uri  US  ;  after  them,  two  Men  bearing  a  coffin  covered 

with  black  ;  then  LuciU.S  and  QuiNTUS.     After 

them, TlTVS  ANDRONICUS;  and  then  Tamo- 

RA,w/M  Alarbus,  Demetrius,  Chiron, 

Aaron,  and  other  Goths,  prisoners  ; 

Soldiers   a/id   People  following. 

The    Bearers   set  dowji    the 

coffin,  rt;/^/ Titus  speaks. 

Tit.  Hail,  Rome,  victorious  in  my  mourning  weeds  I 

Lo,  as  the  bark  that  hath  discharg'd  her  fraught 

T.A.5.1  1. 5. 


A  ct  /.I  TI TUS  A  NDRONICUS.  [Scene  I. 

Returns  with  precious  lading  to  the  bay 

From  whence  at  tirst  she  weigh 'd  her  anchorage 

Cometh  Andronicus,  bound  with  laurel-boughs, 

To  re-salute  his  country  with  his  tears, — 

Tears  of  true  joy  for  his  return  to  Rome. — 

Thou  great  defender  of  this  Capitol, 

Stand  gracious  to  the  rites  that  we  intend  !  — 

Romans,  of  five-and-twenty  valiant  sons. 

Half  of  the  number  that  King  Priam  had. 

Behold  the  poor  remains,  alive  and  dead  !. 

'I'hese  that  survive  let  Rome  reward  with  love  ; 

These  that  I  bring  unto  their  latest  home. 

With  burial  amongst  their  ancestors  : 

Here  Goths  have  given  me  leave  to  sheathe  my  sword. 

Titus,  unkind,  and  careless  of  thine  own, 

Why  suffer'st  thou  thy  sons,  unburied  yet. 

To  hover  on  the  dreadful  shore  of  Styx?  — 

Make  way  to  lay  them  by  their  brethren. — 

[  T/w  tomb  IS  opened. 
There  greet  in  silence,  as  the  dead  are  wont. 
And  sleep  in  peace,  slain  in  your  country's  wars ! 
O  sacred  receptacle  of  my  joys, 
Sweet  cell  of  virtue  and  nobility. 
How  many  sons  of  mine  hast  thou  in  store. 
That  thou  wilt  never  render  to  me  more  ! 

Luc.  Give  us  the  proudest  prisoner  of  the  Goths, 
That  we  may  hew  his  hmbs,  and  on  a  pile 
Ad  manes  fratrnin  sacrifice  his  flesh. 
Before  this  earthly  prison  of  their  bones  ; 
That  so  the  shadows  be  not  unappeas'd. 
Nor  we  disturb'd  with  prodigies  on  earth. 

Ttf.  I  give  him  you, —  the  noblest  that  survives, 
The  eldest  son  of  this  distressed  queen. 

Tam.  Stay,  Roman  brethren  !  —  Gracious  conqueror. 
Victorious  Titus,  rue  the  tears  1  shed, 
A  mother's  tears  in  passion  for  her  son : 
And  if  thy  sons  were  ever  dear  to  thee, 
(J,  think  my  son  to  be  as  dear  to  me  ! 
Sutficeth  not,  that  we  are  brought  to  Rome, 
To  beautify  thy  triumphs  and  return, 
Captive  to  thee  and  to  thy  Roman  yoke; 
But  must  my  sons  be  slaughter'd  in  the  streets. 
For  valiant  doings  in  their  country's  cause  ? 

1.  6.  [T.A.d 


Aci /.]  TJTUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  I. 

O,  if  to  fight  for  king  and  commonweal 
Were  piety  in  thine,  it  is  in  these. 
Andronicus,  stain  not  thy  tomb  with  blood : 
Wilt  thou  draw  near  the  nature  of  the  gods  ? 
Draw  near  them,  then,  in  being  merciful  : 
Sweet  mercy  is  nobility's  true  badge  : 
Thrice-noble  Titus,  spare  my  first-born  son. 

Tzi.  Patient  yourself,  madam,  and  pardon  me. 
These  are  their  brethren,  whom  you  Goths  beheld 
Alive  and  dead  ;  and  for  their  brethren  slain 
Religiously  they  ask  a  sacrifice  : 
To  this  your  son  is  mark'd  ;  and  die  he  must, 
T'  appease  their  groaning  shadows  that  are  gone. 

Luc.  Away  with  him  !  and  make  a  fire  straight ; 
And  with  our  swords,  upon  a  pile  of  wood. 
Let's  hew  his  limbs  till  they  be  clean  consum'd. 

{^Exeunt  Lucius,  (2uintus,  Martius,  attd 
Mutius,  with  Alarbus. 

Tarn.  O  cruel,  irreligious  piety  ! 

Chi.  Was  ever  Scythia  half  so  barbarous  ? 

De!n.  Oppose  not  Scythia  to  ambitious  Rome. 
Alarbus  goes  to  rest ;  and  we  sui\ive 
To  tremble  under  Titus'  threatening  looks. 
Then,  madam,  stand  resolv'd  ;  but  hope  withal, 
The  self-same  gods,  that  arm'd  the  Queen  of  Troy 
With  opportunity  of  sharp  revenge 
Upon  the  Thracian  tyrant  in  her  tent. 
May  favor  Tamora,  the  queen  of  Goths, — 
When  Goths  were  Goths,  and  Tamora  was  queen, — 
To  quit  her  bloody  wrongs  upon  her  foes. 

Re-enter  Lucius,  Quintus,  Martius,  ^w^Mutius, 
with  their  swords  bloody. 

Luc.  See,  lord  and  father,  how  we  have  perform 'd 
Our  Roman  rites :  Alarbus'  limbs  are  lopp'd, 
And  entrails  feed  the  sacrificing  fire, 
Whose  smoke,  like  incense,  doth  perfume  the  sky. 
Remaineth  naught,  but  to  inter  our  brethren, 
And  with  loud  'larums  welcome  them  to  Rome. 

Tit.  Let  it  be  so ;  and  let  Andronicus 
Make  this  his  latest  farewell  to  their  souls. 

[  Trumpets  sounded,  and  the  coffin  laid  in  the  tomb. 
In  peace  and  honor  rest  you  here,  my  sons; 
T.A.7.]  I.  7, 


Act/.]  TITUS  AN'DRONICUS.  {Scene  I. 

Rome's  readiest  champions,  repose  you  here, 
Secure  from  worldly  chances  and  mishaps ! 
Here  lurks  no  treason,  here  no  envy  swells. 
Here  grow  no  damned  grudges,  here  no  storms, 
No  noise  ;  but  silence  and  eternal  sleep : 

Enter  Lavinia. 

In  peace  and  honor  rest  you  here,  my  sons  ! 

Lav.  In  peace  and  honor  live  Lord  Titus  long ; 
My  noble  lord  and  father,  live  in  fame  ! 
Lo,  at  this  tomb  my  tributary  tears 
I  render,  for  my  brethren's  obsequies  ; 
And  at  thy  feet  I  kneel,  with  tears  of  joy, 
Shed  on  the  earth,  for  thy  return  to  Rome: 
O,  bless  me  here  with  thy  victorious  hand, 
"Whose  fortunes  Rome's  best  citizens  applaud ! 

Tif.  Kind  Rome,  that  hast  thus  lovingly  reserv'd 
The  cordial  of  mine  age  to  glad  my  heart !  — 
Lavinia,  live  ;  outlive  thy  father's  days. 
And  fame's  eternal  date,  for  virtue's  praise  ! 

Enter,   below,    MARCUS    Andronicus   atid  Tribunes  : 
re-enter  Saturninus  and  Bassianus,  attended. 

Marc.  Long  live  Lord  Titus,  my  beloved  brother, 
Gracious  triiimpher  in  the  eyes  of  Rome  ! 

Tit.  Thanks,  gentle  tribune,  noble  brother  Marcus. 

Marc.  And  welcome,  nephews,  from  successful  wars, 
You  that  survive,  and  you  that  sleep  in  fame  ! 
Fair  lords,  your  fortunes  are  alike  in  all, 
That  in  your  country's  service  drew  your  swords  : 
But  safer  triumph  is  this  funeral  pomp, 
That  hath  aspir'd  to  Solon's  happiness. 
And  triumphs  over  chance  in  honor's  bed. — 
Titus  Andronicus,  the  people  of  Rome, 
Whose  friend  in  justice  thou  hast  ever  been, 
Send  thee  by  me,  their  tribune  and  their  trust, 
This  palliament  of  white  and  spotless  hue ; 
And  name  thee  in  election  for  the  empire, 
With  these  our  late-deceased  emperor's  sons : 
Be  candidatus,  then,  and  put  it  on. 
And  help  to  set  a  head  on  headless  Rome. 

Tit.  A  better  head  her  glorious  body  fits 
Than  his  that  shakes  for  age  and  feebleness : 

I.  8.  [t.a,8. 


Act  I.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene. 

What  should  I  don  this  robe,  and  trouble  you  ? 
Be  chosen  with  proclamations  to-day, 
To-morrow  yield  up  rule,  resign  my  life, 
And  set  abroach  new  business  for  you  all? 
Rome,  I  have  been  thy  soldier  forty  years. 
And  led  my  country's  strength  successfully. 
And  buried  one-and-twenty  valiant  sons, 
Knighted  in  field,  slain  manfully  in  arms, 
In  right  and  service  of  their  noble  country : 
Give  me  a  staff  of  honor  for  mine  age, 
But  not  a  scepter  to  control  the  world  : 
Upright  he  held  it,  lords,  that  held  it  last. 

Marc.  Titus,  thou  shall  obtain  and  ask  the  empery. 

Saf.  Proud  and  ambitious  tribune,  canst  thou  tell  ? 

TV'/.  Patience,  Prince  Saturnine. 

Sa/.  Romans,  do  me  right ; — 

Patricians,  draw  your  swords,  and  sheathe  them  not 
Till  Saturninus  be  Rome's  emperor. — 
Andronicus,  would  thou  wert  shipp'd  to  hell. 
Rather  than  rob  me  of  the  people's  hearts  ! 

Luc.  Proud  Saturnine,  interrupter  of  the  good 
That  noble-minded  Titus  means  to  thee ! 

T/'f.  Content  thee,  prince  ;  I  will  restore  to  thee 
The  people's  hearts,  and  wean  them  from  themselves. 

Bas.  Andronicus,  I  do  not  flatter  thee. 
But  honor  thee,  and  will  do  till  I  die  : 
My  faction  if  thou  strengthen  with  thy  friends, 
I  will  most  thankful  be  ;  and  thanks  to  men 
Of  noble  minds  is  honorable  meed. 

7z'/.  People  of  Rome,  and  people's  tribunes  here, 
I  ask  your  voices  and  your  suffrages : 
Will  you  bestow  them  friendly  on  Andronicus.? 

Tribicnes.  To  gratify  the  good  Andronicus, 
And  gratulate  his  safe  return  to  Rome, 
The  people  will  accept  whom  he  admits. 

Tit.  Tribunes,  I  thank  you  :  and  this  suit  I  make, 
That  you  create  your  emperor's  eldest  son. 
Lord  Saturnine  ;  whose  virtues  will,  I  hope, 
Reflect  on  Rome  as  Titan's  rays  on  earth, 
And  ripen  justice  in  this  common  weal  : 
Then,  if  you  will  el«ct  by  my  advice, 
Crown  him,  and  say,  "  Long  live  our  emperor!" 

Marc.  With  voices  and  applause  of  every  sort, 
T.A.9.]  1. 9. 


AU/.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  I. 

Patricians  and  plei)cians,  we  create 

Lord  Saturninus  Rome's  great  emperor, 

And  say,  "  Long  live  our  Emperor  Saturnine !  " 

[A  long  flourish. 

Sat.  Titus  Andronicus,  for  thy  favors  done 
To  us  in  our  election  this  day 
I  give  thee  thanks  in  part  of  thy  deserts. 
And  will  with  deeds  requite  thy  gentleness: 
And,  for  an  onset,  Titus,  to  advance 
Thy  name  and  honorable  family, 
Lavinia  will  I  make  my  empress, 
Rome's  royal  mistress,  mistress  of  my  heart, 
And  in  the  sacred  Pantheon  her  espouse  : 
Tell  me,  Andronicus,  doth  this  motion  please  thee? 

Tit.  It  doth,  my  worthy  lord  ;  and  in  this  match 
I  hold  me  highly  honored  of  your  grace : 
And  here,  in  sight  of  Rome,  to  Saturnine  — 
King  and  commander  of  our  commonweal. 
The  wide  world's  emperor  —  do  I  consecrate 
My  sword,  my  chariot,  and  my  prisoners; 
Presents  well  worthy  Rome's  imperious  lord : 
Receive  them,  then,  the  tribute  that  I  owe. 
Mine  honor's  ensigns  humbled  at  thy  feet. 

Sat.  Thanks,  noble  Titus,  father  of  my  life! 
How  proud  I  am  of  thee  and  of  thy  gifts 
Rome  shall  record ;  and  when  I  do  forget 
The  least  of  these  unspeakable  deserts, 
Romans,  forget  your  fealty  to  me. 

Tit.  [to  Tamora]  Now,  madam,  are  you  prisoner  to 
an  emperor ; 
To  him  that,  for  your  honor  and  your  state. 
Will  use  you  nobly  and  your  followers. 

Sat.  [aside]   A  goodly  lady,  trust  me  ;  of  the  hue 
That  I  would  choose,  were  I  to  choose  anew. — 
Clear  up,  fair  queen,  that  cloudy  countenance  : 
Though    chance    of   war   hath  wrought  this  change   of 

cheer. 
Thou  com'st  not  to  be  made  a  scorn  in  Rome : 
Princely  shall  be  thy  usage  every  way. 
Rest  on  my  word,  and  let  not  discontent 
Daunt  all  your  hopes  :  madam,  he  comforts  you 
Can  make  you  greater  than  the  Queen  of  Goths. — 
Lavinia,  you  are  not  displeas'd  with  this  ? 

I.  lo.  [t.a.io* 


Act/.]  TITUS  A  NDRONICUS.  \,Scene  I. 

Lav.  Not  I,  my  lord  ;  sith  true  nobility 
Warrants  these  words  in  princely  courtesy. 

Sat.  Thanks,  sweet  Lavinia. —  Romans,  let  us  go  : 
Ransomless  here  we  set  our  prisoners  free : 
Proclaim  our  honors,  lords,  with  trump  and  drum, 

{^Flourtsk.     Saturnimis     courts     Taniora     in 
dumb-show. 

Bas,  Lord  Titus,  by  your  leave,  this  maid  is  mine. 

YSeisi>ig  Lavinia. 

Tit.  How,  sir  !  are  you  in  earnest,  then,  my  lord  } 

Bas.  Ay,  noble  Titus ;  and  resolv'd  withal 
To  do  myself  this  reason  and  this  right. 

Marc.  Stium  ciiiqiie  is  our  Roman  justice  : 
This  prince  in  justice  seizeth  but  his  own. 

Ltic.  And  that  he  will,  and  shall,  if  Lucius  live. 

Tit.  Traitors,    avaunt !  —  Where     is     the    Emperor's 
guard  ? — 
Treason,  my  lord, —  Lavinia  is  surpris'd  ! 

Sat.  Surpris'd  !  by  whom  ? 

Bas.  By  him  that  justly  may   • 

Rear  his  betroth 'd  from  all  the  world  away. 

{Exeunt  Bassianiis  and  Marcus  with  Lavinia. 

Mut.   Brothers,  help  to  convey  her  hence  away. 
And  with  my  sword  I'll  keep  this  door  safe. 

{Exeunt  Lucius,  Quintus,  and  Martius. 

Tit.  Follow,  my  lord,  and  I'll  soon  bring  her  back. 

Mut.  My  lord,  you  pass  not  here. 

Tit.  What,  villain  boy  ! 

Barr'st  me  my  way  in  Rome  ?  {Stabbing  Mutius. 

Mut.  Help,  Lucius,  help  !     {Dies. 

Re-enter  LUCIUS. 

Luc.  My  lord,  you  are  unjust ;  and  more  than  so, 
In  wrongful  quarrel  you  have  slain  your  son. 

Tit.  Nor  thou,  nor  he,  are  any  sons  of  mine  ; 
My  sons  would  never  so  dishonor  me  : 
Traitor,  restore  Lavinia  to  the  emperor. 

Luc.  Dead,  if  you  w'ill ;  but  not  to  be  his  wife, 
That  is  another's  lawful-promis'd  love.  {Exit 

Sat.  No,  Titus,  no ;  the  emperor  needs  her  not. 
Nor  her,  nor  thee,  nor  any  of  thy  stock  : 
I'll  trust,  by  leisure,  him  that  mocks  me  once; 
Thee  never,  nor  thy  traitorous  haughty  sons, 

T.A.Il.]  I.  II. 


Act  /.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  \Scene  1. 

Confederates  all  thus  to  dishonor  me. 

Was  there  none  else  in  Rome  to  make  a  stale, 

But  Saturnine  ?     Full  well,  Andronicus, 

Agree  these  deeds  with  that  proud  brag  of  thine, 

That  saidst,  I  begg'd  the  empire  at  thy  hands. 

Tit.  O     monstrous  !     what     reproachful     words    arc 
these  ? 

Sat.  But  go  thy  ways  ;  go,  give  that  changing  piece 
To  him  that  flourish'd  for  her  with  his  sword  ; 
A  valiant  son-in-law  thou  shalt  enjoy ; 
One  tit  to  bandy  with  thy  lawless  sons. 
To  rufifle  in  the  commonwealth  of  Rome. 

Tit.  These  words  are  razors  to  my  wounded  heart. 

Sat.  And  therefore,  lovely  Tamora,  queen  of  Goths, — 
That,  like  the  stately  Phoebe  'mongst  her  nymphs, 
Dost  overshine  the  gallant'st  dames  of  Rome, — 
If  thou  be  pleas'd  with  this  my  sudden  choice, 
Behold,  I  choose  thee,  Tamora,  for  my  bride. 
And  will  create  thee  empress  of  Rome. 
Speak,  queen  of  Goths,  dost  thou  applaud  my  choice? 
And  here  I  swear  by  all  the  Roman  gods, — 
Sith  priest  and  holy  water  are  so  near. 
And  tapers  burn  so  bright,  and  every  thing 
In  readiness  for  Hymenseus  stand, — 
I  will  not  re-salute  the  streets  of  Rome, 
Or  climb  my  palace,  till  from  forth  this  place 
I  lead  espous'd  my  bride  along  with  me. 

Ta7n.  And    here,  in    sight    of    heaven,    to    Rome    I 
swear. 
If  Saturnine  advance  the  queen  of  Goths, 
She  will  a  handmaid  be  to  his  desires, 
A  loving  nurse,  a  mother  to  his  youth. 

Sat.  Ascend,  fair    queen.    Pantheon. —  Lords,    accom- 
pany 
Your  noble  emperor  and  his  lovely  bride. 
Sent  by  the  heavens  for  Prince  Saturnine, 
Whose  wisdom  hath  her  fortune  conquered : 
There  shall  we  consummate  our  spousal  rites, 

[Exeunt     Saturfu'niis,    attended,      Tamora, 
Demet7-i2{s,  Chiron,  Aaron,  and  Goths. 

Tit.  I  am  not  bid  to  wait  upon  this  bride;  — 
Titus,  when  wert  thou  wont  to  walk  alone, 
Dishonor'd  thus,  and  challenged  of  wrongs  } 

I.    12.  [t.A.12, 


Act  i:\  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  I. 

Re-enter  MARCUS,   LUCIUS,   QuiNTUS,  and  MartIUS. 

Marc.  O  Titus,  see,  O  see  what  thou  hast  done ! 
In  a  bad  quarrel  slain  a  virtuous  son. 

Tit.   No,  foolish  tribune,  no  ;  no  son  of  mine,— 
Nor  thou,  nor  these,  confederates  in  the  deed 
That  hath  dishonor'd  all  our  family  ; 
Unworthy  brother,  and  unworthy  sons  ! 

Lite.  But  let  us  give  him  burial,  as  becomes  ; 
Give  Mutius  burial  with  our  brethren. 

Tit.  Traitors,  away  !  he  rests  not  in  this  tomb:  — 
This  monument  five  hundred  years  hath  stood. 
Which  I  have  sumptuously  re-edified  : 
Here  none  but  soldiers  and  Rome's  servitors 
Repose  in  fame  ;  none  basely  slain  in  brawls:  — 
Bury  him  where  you  can,  he  copies  not  here. 

Marc.  My  lord,  this  is  impiety  in  you  : 
My  nephew  Mutius'  deeds  do  plead  for  him  ; 
He  must  be  buried  with  his  brethren. 

ilffl   And  shall,  or  him  we  will  accompany. 

Tit.  "  And  shall !  "  what  villain  was  it  spake  that  word  ? 
Quin.   He  that  would  vouch 't  in  any  place  but  here. 
Tit.  What,  would  you  bury  him  in  my  despite  } 
Marc.  No,  noble  Titus  ;  but  entreat  of  thee 

To  pardon  Mutius,  and  to  bury  him. 

Tit.  Marcus,  even  thou  hast  struck  upon  my  crest. 

And,  with  these  boys,  mine  honor  thou  hast  wounded  : 

My  foes  I  do  repute  you  every  one  ; 

So,  trouble  me  no  more,  but  get  you  gone. 

Mart.  He  is  not  with  himself;  let  us  withdraw. 
Quin.  Not  I,  till  Mutius'  bones  be  buried. 

\^Marcus  and  t/ie  sons  of  Titus  kneel. 
Marc.  Brother,  for  in  that  name  doth  nature  plead, — 
Quin.  Father,  and  in  that  name  doth  nature  speak, — 
Tit.  Speak  thou  no  more,  if  all  the  rest  will  speed. 
Marc.  Renowned  Titus,  more  than  half  my  soul, — 
Luc.  Dear  father,  soul  and  substance  of  us  all, — 
Marc.  Suffer  thy  brother  Marcus  to  inter 

His  noble  nephew  here  in  virtue's  nest. 

That  died  in  honor  and  Lavinia's  cause. 

Thou  art  a  Roman, —  be  not  barbarous  : 

The  Greeks  upon  advice  did  bury  Ajax, 

That  slew  himself;  and  wise  Laertes'  son 

T.A.13.]  1.13. 


Aa/.]  Tl  TVS  A  NDRONICUS.  iScene  1 , 

Did  graciously  plead  for  his  funerals  : 

Let  not  young  IVIutius,  then,  that  was  thy  joy, 

Be  barr'd  his  entrance  here. 

Tii.  Rise,  Marcus,  rise:  — 

\Marcns  and  the  others  rise. 
The  dismal 'st  day  is  this  that  ere  I  saw. 
To  be  dishonor'd  by  my  sons  in  Rome  !  — 
Well,  bury  him,  and  bury  me  the  next. 

[Mittius  is  put  into  the  tomb. 

Luc.  There    lie    thy   bones,    sweet    Mutius,  with    thy 
friends, 
Till  we  with  trophies  do  adorn  thy  tomb. 

All.  \kneeling\  No  man  shed  tears  for  noble  Mutius ; 
He  lives  in  fame  that  died  in  virtue's  cause. 

Marc.  \}-ising  with  the  rest\  My  lord, —  to  step  out  of 
these  dreary  dumps, — 
How  comes  it  that  the  subtle  Queen  of  Goths 
Is  of  a  sudden  thus  advanc'd  in  Rome  .' 

Tit.  I  know  not,  Marcus ;  but  I  know  it  is, — 
Whether  by  device  or  no,  the  heavens  can  tell : 
Is  she  not,  then,  beholding  to  the  man 
That  brought  her  for  this  high  good  turn  so  far.? 

Marc.   Yes,  and  will  nobly  him  remunerate. 

Flourish.     Re-ettter,  from  one  side,   Saturninus  at 

tended,  Tamora,   Demetrius,  Chiron,  and 

Aaron  ;  from  the  other,  Bassianus, 

Lavinia,  and  others. 

Sat.  So,  Bassianus,  you  have  play'd  your  prize ; 
God  give  you  joy,  sir,  of  your  gallant  bride  ! 

Bas.  And  you  of  yours,  my  lord  !  I  say  no  more, 
Nor  wish  no  less ;  and  so,  I  take  my  leave. 

.Sat.  Traitor,  if  Rome  have  law,  or  we  have  power, 
Thou  and  thy  faction  shall  repent  this  rape. 

/uis.   Rape,  call  you  it,  my  lord,  to  seixe  my  own, 
My  true-betrothed  love,  and  now  my  wife.? 
But  let  the  laws  of  Rome  determine  all; 
Meanwhile  I  am  possess'd  of  that  is  mine. 

.Sat.  'Tis  good,  sir  ;  you  are  very  short  with  us  ; 
But,  if  we  live,  we'll  be  as  sharp  with  you. 

/)'as.  My  lord,  what  I  have  done,  as  best  1  may 
Answer  I  must,  and  shall  do  with  my  life. 
Only  thus  much  I  give  your  grace  to  know, — 

1. 14.  lT.A.14. 


Aci /.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  I. 

By  all  the  duties  that  I  owe  to  Rome, 
This  noble  gentleman,  Lord  Titus  here. 
Is  in  opinion  and  in  honor  wrong'd  ; 
That,  in  the  rescue  of  Lavinia, 
With  his  own  hand  did  slay  his  youngest  son, 
In  zeal  to  you,  and  highly  mov'd  to  wrath 
To  be  controird  in  that  he  frankly  gave : 
Receive  him,  then,  to  favor.  Saturnine, 
That  hath  express'd  himself  in  all  his  deeds 
A  father  and  a  friend  to  thee  and  Rome. 

Tit.  Prince  Bassianus,  leave  to  plead  my  deeds ; 
'Tis  thou  and  those  that  have  dishonor'd  me. 
Rome  and  the  righteous  hea\ens  be  my  judge. 
How  I  have  lov'd  and  honor'd  Saturnine  ! 

Tarn.  My  worthy  lord,  if  ever  Tamora 
Were  gracious  in  those  princely  eyes  of  thine, 
Then  hear  me  speak  indifferently  for  all ; 
And  at  my  suit,  sweet,  pardon  what  is  past. 

Sat.  What,  madam  !  be  dishonor'd  openly. 
And  basely  put  it  up  without  revenge  .'' 

Tain.  Not  so,  my  lord  ;  the  gods  of  Rome  forfend 
I  should  be  author  to  dishonor  you  ! 
But  on  mine  honor  dare  I  undertake 
For  good  Lord  Titus'  innocence  in  all ; 
Whose  fury  not  dissembled  speaks  his  griefs: 
Then,  at  my  suit,  look  graciously  on  him  ; 
Lose  not  so  noble  a  friend  on  vain  suppose. 
Nor  with  sour  looks  afflict  his  gentle  heart. — 
{Aside  to  Sat.]  My  lord,  be  rul'd  by  me,  be  won  at  last ; 
Dissemble  all  your  griefs  and  discontents  : 
You  are  but  newly  planted  in  your  throne ; 
Lest,  then,  the  people,  and  patricians  too, 
Upon  a  just  survey,  take  Titus'  part. 
And  so  supplant  you  for  ingratitude, — 
Which  Rome  reputes  to  be  a  heinous  sin, — 
Yield  at  entreats  ;  and  then  let  me  alone : 
I'll  find  a  day  to  massacre  them  all. 
And  raze  their  faction  and  their  family, 
The  cruel  father  and  his  traitorous  sons. 
To  whom  1  sued  for  my  dear  son's  life ; 
And  make  them  know  what  'tis  to  let  a  queen 
Kneel  in  the  streets  and  beg  for  grace  in  vain.— 
Come,  come,  sweet  emperoi,    -come,  Andronicus, — 

T.A.IS.]  I.  15. 


/lefl.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  I. 

Take  up  this  good  old  man,  and  cheer  the  heart 
That  dies  in  tempest  of  thy  angry  frown. 

Sat.  Rise,  Titus,  rise;  my  empress  hath  prevail'd. 

Tit.  I  thank  your  majesty,  and  her,  my  lord  : 
These  words,  these  looks,  infuse  new  life  in  me. 

Tarn.  Titus,  I  am  incorporate  in  Rome, 
A  Roman  now  adopted  happily. 
And  must  advise  the  emperor  for  his  good. 
This  day  all  quarrels  die,  Andronicus;  — 
And  let  it  be  mine  honor,  good  my  lord. 
That  I  have  reconcil'd  your  friends  and  you.— 
For  you,  Prince  Bassianus,  I  have  pass'd 
My  word  and  promise  to  the  emperor, 
That  you  will  be  more  mild  and  tractable. — 
And  fear  not,  lords, —  and  you,  Lavinia  ;  —  ■ 
By  my  advice,  all  humbled  on  your  knees, 
You  shall  ask  pardon  of  his  majesty. 

yMarctis,  Lavinia,  and  the  sons  of  Titus  kneel. 

Luc.  We   do  ;  and    vow  to  heaven,  and  to    his  high- 
ness, 
That  what  we  did  was  mildly  as  we  might. 
Tendering  our  sister's  honor  and  our  own. 

Marc.  That,  on  mine  honor,  here  I  do  protest. 

Sat.  Away,  and  talk  not ;  trouble  us  no  more. 

Tani.  Nay,  nay,  sweet  emperor,  we  must  all  be  friends  : 
The  tribune  and  his  nephews  kneel  for  grace  ; 
I  will  not  be  denied  :  sweet  heart,  look  back. 

Sat.  Marcus,  for  thy  sake  and  thy  brother's  here, 
And  at  my  lovely  Tamora's  entreats, 
I  do  remit  these  young  men's  heincfus  faults. 

\Marcus  and  the  others  rise. 
Lavinia,  though  you  left  me  like  a  churl, 
I  found  a  friend ;  and  sure  as  death  I  swore 
I  would  not  part  a  bachelor  from  the  priest. 
Come,  if  the  emperor's  court  can  feast  two  brides. 
You  are  my  guest,  Lavinia,  and  your  friends. — 
This  day  shall  be  a  love-day,  Tamora. 

Tit.  To-morrow,  an  it  please  your  majesty 
To  hunt  the  panther  and  the  hart  with  me, 
With  horn  and  hound  we'll  give  your  grace  bonjour. 

Sat.  Be  it  so,  Titus,  and  gramercy  too. 

\FIottrish.  Exeunt. 

I.  i6.  [t.a.i6. 


ActII.1  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  \Scene  I, 

ACT  11. 

Scene  I.  Ro7ne.    Before  the  palace. 

Enter  AARON. 

Aar.  Now  climbeth  Tamora  Olympus'  top. 
Safe  out  of  fortune's  shot  ;  and  sits  aloft, 
Secure  of  thunder's  crack  or  lightning-flash; 
Advanc'd  above  pale  envy's  threatening  reach. 
As  when  the  golden  sun  salutes  the  morn, 
And,  having  gilt  the  ocean  with  his  beams, 
(rallops  the  zodiac  in  his  glistering  coach. 
And  overlooks  the  highest-peering  hills ; 
So  Tamora  : 

Upon  her  wit  doth  earthly  honor  wait, 
And  virtue  stoops  and  trembles  at  her  frown. 
Then,  Aaron,  arm  thy  heart,  and  ht  thy  thoughts, 
To  mount  aloft  with  thy  imperial  mistress. 
And  mount  her  pitch,  whom  thou  in  triumph  long 
Hast  prisoner  held,  fetter'd  in  amorous  chains. 
And  faster  bound  to  Aaron's  charming  eyes 
Than  is  Prometheus  tied  to  Caucasus. 
Away  with  slavish  weeds  and  servile  thoughts  ! 
I  will  be  bright,  and  shine  in  pearl  and  gold, 
To  wait  upon  this  new-made  empress. 
To  wait,  said  I .''  to  wanton  with  this  queen. 
This  goddess,  this  Semiramis,  this  nymph, 
This  siren,  that  will  charm  Rome's  Saturnine, 
And  see  his  shipwreck  and  his  commonweal's. — 
Holla  !  what  storm  is  this .'' 

Enter  Demetrius  a^rt' Chiron,  braving, 

Dem,  Chiron,  thy  years  want  wit,  thy  wit  wants  edge. 
And  manners,  to  intrude  where  I  am  grac'd  ; 
And  may,  for  aught  thou  know'st,  affected  be. 

Chi.  Demetrius,  thou  dost  over-ween  in  all ; 
And  so  in  this,  to  bear  me  down  with  braves. 
'Tis  not  the  difference  of  a  year  or  two 
Make  me  less  gracious,  thee  more  fortunate  : 
I  am  as  able  and  as  fit  as  thou 
To  serve,  and  to  deserve  my  mistress'  grace ; 
And  that  my  sword  upon  thee  shall  approve, 
And  plead  my  passions  for  Lavinia's  love. 
r.A.i?.!  1. 17. 


Act  II.  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene/. 

Aar.  [aside]  Clubs,  clubs!  these  lovers  will  not   keep 
the  peace. 

Dem.  Why,  boy,  although  our  mother,  unadvis'd, 
Gave  you  a  dancing-rapier  by  your  side. 
Are  you  so  desperate  grown  to  threat  your  friends  ? 
Go  to  ;  have  your  lath  glu'd  within  your  sheath 
Till  you  know  better  how  to  handle  it. 

Chi.  Meanwhile,  sir,  with  the  little  skill  I  have, 
Full  well  shalt  thou  perceive  how  much  I  dare. 

Dem.  Ay,  boy,  grow  ye  so  brave  .'*  [  They  draw. 

Aar.  {coming  foriuard^  Why,  how  now.  lords  ! 

So  near  the  emperor's  palace  dare  you  draw, 
And  maintain  such  a  quarrel  openly.'* 
Full  well  I  wot  the  ground  of  all  this  grudge  : 
I  would  not  for  a  million  of  gold 
The  cause  were  known  to  them  it  most  concerns; 
Nor  would  your  noble  mother  for  much  more 
Be  so  dishonor'd  in  the  court  of  Rome. 
For  shame,  put  up. 

Dem.  Not  I,  till  I  have  sheath'd 

My  rapier  in  his  bosom,  and  withal     • 
Thrust  these  reproachful  speeches  down  his  throat 
That  he  hath  breath 'd  in  my  dishonor  here. 

Chi.  For  that  I  am  prepar'd  and  full  resolv'd, — 
Foul-spoken  coward,  that  thunder'st  with  thy  tongue, 
And  with  thy  weapon  nothing  dSr'st  perform. 

Aar.  Away,  I  say  !  — 
Now,  by  the  gods  that  warlike  Goths  adore, 
This  petty  brabble  will  undo  us  all. — 
Why,  lords,  and  think  you  not  how  dangerous 
It  is  to  jet  upon  a  prince's  right.'' 
What,  is  Lavinia,  then,  become  so  loose. 
Or  Bassianus  so  degenerate. 
That  for  her  love  such  quarrels  may  be  broach'd 
Without  controlment,  justice,  or  revenge .'' 
Young  lords,  beware !  and  should  the  empress  know 
This  discord's  ground,  the  music  would  not  please. 

Chi.  I  care  not,  I,  knew  she  and  all  the  world  : 
I  love  Lavinia  more  than  all  the  world. 

Dem.  Youngling,   learn  thou    to   make   some  meaner 
choice : 
Lavinia  is  thine  elder  brother's  hope. 

Aar.  Why,  are  ye  mad  }  or  know  ye  not,  in  Rome 

I.  i8.  [t.a.iS. 


Act//.}  TITUS  AAWRONICUS.  [_Scene  f. 

How  furious  and  impatient  they  be, 
And  cannot  brook  competitors  in  love  ? 
I  tell  you,  lords,  you  do  but  plot  your  deaths 
By  this  device. 

Chi.  Aaron,  a  thousand  deaths 

Would  I  propose  t'  achieve  her  whom  I  love. 

Aar.  T'  achieve  her  !  —  how  ? 

Dem.  Why  mak'st  thou  it  so  strange  ? 

She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  woo'd  ; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  may  be  won  ; 
She  is  Lavinia,  therefore  must  be  lov'd. 
What,  man  !  more  water  glideth  by  the  mill 
Than  wots  the  miller  of ;  and  easy  it  is 
Of  a  cut  loaf  to  steal  a  shive,  we  know  : 
Though  Bassianus  be  the  emperor's  brother, 
Better  than  he  have  worn  Vulcan's  badge. 

Aar.  [aside]  Ay,  and  as  good  as  Saturninus  mav. 

De?n.  Then  why  should  he  despair  that  knows  to  court 
it 
With  words,  fair  looks,  and  liberality  ? 
What,  hast  not  thou  full  often  struck  a  doe, 
And  borne  her  cleanly  by  the  keeper's  nose  ? 

Aar.  Why,  then,  it  seems,  some  certain  snatch  or  so 
Would  serve  your  turns. 

C/ii.  Ay,  so  the  turn  were  serv'd. 

Dem.  Aaron,  thou  hast  hit  it. 

Aar.  Would  you  had  hit  it  too  I 

Then  should  not  we  be  tir'd  with  this  ado. 
Why,  hark  ye,  hark  ye, —  and  are  you  such  fools 
To  square  for  this  ?  would  it  offend  you,  then, 
That  both  should  speed  } 

Chi.  Faith,  not  me. 

Dem.  Nor  me,  so  I  were  one. 

Aar.  For  shame,  be  friends,  and  join  for  that  you  jar 
'Tis  policy  and  stratagem  must  do 
That  you  affect  ;  and  so  must  you  resolve, 
That  what  you  cannot  as  you  would  achieve, 
You  must  perforce  accomplish  as  you  may. 
Take  this  of  me, —  Lucrece  was  not  more  chaste 
Than  this  Lavinia,  Bassianus'  love. 
A  speedier  course  than  lingering  languishment 
Must  ye  pursue,  and  I  have  found  the  path. 
My  lords,  a  solemn  hunting  is  in  hand  ; 

T.A.I9.]  I.    IQ. 


Actn.\  TITUS  ANDROHICUS.  {Scene  II. 

There  will  the  lovely  Ronian  ladies  troop  : 

The  forest-walks  are  wide  and  spacious ; 

And  many  unfrequented  plots  there  are 

Fitted  by  kind  for  rape  and  villainy  : 

Single  you  thither,  then,  this  dainty  doe, 

And  strike  her  home  by  force,  if  not  by  words  : 

This  way,  or  not  at  all,  stand  you  in  hope. 

Come,  come,  our  empress,  with  her  sacred  wit 

To  villainy  and  vengeance  consecrate, 

Will  we  acquaint  with  all  that  we  intend ; 

And  she  shall  file  our  engines  with  advice. 

That  will  not  suffer  you  to  square  yourselves, 

But  to  your  wishes'  height  advance  you  both. 

The  emperor's  court  is  like  the  house  of  Fame, 

The  palace  full  of  tongues,  of  eyes,  and  ears: 

The  woods  are  ruthless,  dreadful,  deaf,  and  dull ; 

There  speak,  and  strike,  brave  boys,  and  take  your  turns  ; 

There  serve  your  lust,  shadow'd  from  heaven's  eye. 

And  revel  in  Lavinia's  treasury. 

Chi.  Thy  counsel,  lad,  smells  of  no  cowardice. 

Dem.  Sit  fas  atit  iicfas,  till  I  find  the  stream 
To  cool  this  heat,  a  charm  to  calm  these  fits, 
Per  Styga,  per  manes  vehor.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  II.  A  forest  near   Rome.     Horns   and  cry   of 
hounds   heard. 

EnterTnxJS  Andronicus,  w////  Hunters,  &c.,  Marcus, 
Lucius,  Quintus,  and  Martius. 
Tit.  The  hunt  is  up,  the  morn  is  bright  and  gray, 
The  fields  are  fragrant,  and  the  woods  are  green : 
Uncouple  here,  and  let  us  make  a  bay, 
And  wake  the  emperor  and  his  lovely  bride. 
And  rouse  the  prince,  and  ring  a  hunter's  peal. 
That  all  the  court  may  echo  with  the  noise. 
Sons,  let  it  be  your  charge,  as  it  is  ours, 
T'  attend  the  emperor's  person  carefully : 
1  have  been  troubled  in  my  sleep  this  night, 
But  dawning  day  new  comfort  hath  inspir'd. 

Horns   wind  a  peal.     Enter  Saturninus.  Tamora, 
Bassianus,  Lavinia,  Demetrius,  Chiron, 
and  Attendants, 
Many  good  morrows  to  your  majesty;  — 

I.  20.  [t.a.20. 


AtII.'\  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene ///, 

Madam,  to  you  as  many  and  as  good  :  — 
I  promised  your  grace  a  hunter's  peal. 

Sa/.  And  you  have  rung  it  lustily,  my  lord ; 
Somewhat  too  early  for  new-married  ladies. 

Bas.  Lavinia,  how  say  you  ? 

Lav.  I  say,  no  ; 

I  have  been  broad  awake  two  hours  and  more. 

SaL  Come  on,  then  ;  horse  and  chariots  let  us  have, 
And  to  our  sport. — [  To  Ta)nora\  Madam,  now  shall  ye  see 
Our  Roman  hunting. 

Marc.  I  have  dogs,  my  lord. 

Will  rouse  the  proudest  panther  in  the  chase, 
And  climb  the  highest  promontory  top. 

Tit.  And  I  have  horse  will  follow  where  the  game 
Makes  way,  and  run  like  swallows  o'er  the  plain. 

Dem.  Chiron,  we  hunt  not,  we,  with  horse  nor  JKniurl 
But  hope  to  pluck  a  dainty  doe  to  ground.  [Extunt. 

Scene  III.     A    lonely  part  of  t/u-  forest. 
Enter  A  A  RON,  wtt/i  a  bag  of  gold. 
Aar.  He  that  had  wit  would  think  that  I  had  none, 
To  bury  so  much  gold  under  a  tree, 
And  never  after  to  inherit  it. 
Let  him  that  thinks  of  me  so  abjectly 
Know  that  this  gold  must  coin  a  stratagem, 
Which,  cunningly  effected,  will  beget 
A  very  e.xcellent  piece  of  villainy  : 

And  so  repose,  sweet  gold,  for  their  unrest  {Hides  the  gold 
That  have  their  alms  out  of  the  empress'  chest. 

Enter  Tamora. 
Tarn.  My  lovely  Aaron,  wherefore  look'st  thou  sad, 
When  every  thing  doth  make  a  gleeful  boast  ? 
The  birds  chant  melody  on  every  bush  ; 
The  snake  lies  rolled  in  the  cheerful  sun  ; 
The  green  leaves  quiver  with  the  cooling  wind. 
And  make  a  checker'd  shadow  on  the  ground  ; 
Under  their  sweet  shade,  Aaron,  let  us  sit, 
And,  whilst  the  babbling  echo  mocks  the  hounds, 
Replying  shrilly  to  the  well-tun'd  horns. 
As  if  a  double  hunt  were  heard  at  once. 
Let  us  sit  down  and  mark  their  yelping  noise ; 
And  —  after  conflict  such  as  was  suppos'd 

T.A.2I.]  I.  21. 


A  a  //.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  III. 

The  wandering  prince  and  Dido  once  enjoy'd, 
When  with  a  happy  storm  they  were  surpris'd, 
And  curtain'd  with  a  counsel-keeping  cave  — 
We  may,  each  wreathed  in  the  other's  arms, 
Our  pastimes  done,  possess  a  golden  slumber  ; 
Whiles  hounds  and  horns  and  sweet  melodious  birds 
Be  unto  us  as  is  a  nurse's  song 
Of  lullaby  to  bring  her  babe  asleep. 

Aar.  Madam,  though  Venus  govern  your  desires, 
Saturn  is  dominator  over  mine : 
What  signifies  my  deadly-standing  eye, 
My  silence  and  my  cloudy  melancholy, 
My  fleece  of  woolly  hair  that  now  uncurls 
Even  as  an  adder  when  she  doth  unroll 
To  do  some  fatal  execution  ? 
No,  madam,  these  are  no  venereal  signs : 
Vengeance  is  in  my  heart,  death  in  my  hand. 
Blood  and  revenge  are  hammering  in  my  head. 
Hark,  Tamora, —  the  empress  of  my  soul. 
Which  never  hopes  more  heaven  than  rests  in  thee, — 
This  is  the  day  of  doom  for  Bassianus  : 
His  Philomel  must  lose  her  tongue  to-day ; 
Thy  sons  make  pillage  of  her  chastity. 
And  wash  their  hands  in  Bassianus'  blood, 
Seest  thou  this  letter  ?  take  it  up,  I  pray  thee. 
And  give  the  king  this  fatal-plotted  scroll. — 
Now  question  me  no  more, —  we  are  espied  ; 
Here  comes  a  parcel  of  our  hopeful  booty, 
Which  dreads  not  yet  their  lives'  destruction. 

Tain.  Ah,  my  sweet  Moor,  sweeter  to  me  than  life  ! 

Aar.  No  more,  great  empress, —  Bassianus  comes  : 
Be  cross  with  him  ;  and  I'll  go  fetch  thy  sons 
To  back  thy  quarrels,  whatsoe'er  they  be.  YExit. 

Enter  BASSIANUS  and  Lavinia. 

Bas.  Who  have  we  here  ?     Rome's  royal  empress, 
Unfurnish'd  of  her  well-beseeming  troop  .'* 
Or  is  it  Dian,  habited  like  her. 
Who  hath  abandoned  her  holy  groves 
To  see  the  general  hunting  in  this  forest  } 

Tain.  Saucy  controller  of  our  private  steps! 
Had  1  the  power  that  some  say  Dian  had. 
Thy  temples  should  be  planted  presently 

I.  22.  [T.A.22. 


AciII.'\  TITUS  ANDROmCUS.  [Scent //I. 

With  horns,  as  was  Action's;  and  the  hounds 
Should  drive  upon  thy  new-transformed  Hmbs, 
Unmannerly  intruder  as  thou  art ! 

Lav.  Under  your  patience,  gentle  empress, 
'Tis  thought  you  have  a  goodly  gift  in  horning  ; 
And  to  be  doubted  that  your  Moor  and  3-ou 
Are  singled  forth  to  try  experiments  : 
Jove  shield  your  husband  from  his  hounds  to-day! 
'Tis  pity  they  should  take  him  for  a  stag. 

Bas.  Believe  me,  queen,  your  swarth  Cimmerian 
Doth  make  your  honor  of  his  body's  hue. 
Spotted,  detested,  and  abominable. 
Why  are  you  sequester'd  from  all  your  train. 
Dismounted  from  your  snow-white  goodly  steed. 
And  wander'd  hither  to  an  obscure  plot. 
Accompanied  but  with  a  barbarous  Moor, 
If  foul  desire  had  not  conducted  you  ? 

Lav.  And,  being  intercepted  in  your  sport, 
Great  reason  that  my  noble  lord  be  rated 
For  sauciness. —  I  pray  you,  let  us  hence, 
And  let  her  joy  her  raven-color'd  love  ; 
This  valley  fits  the  purpose  passing  well. 

Bas.  The  king  my  brother  shall  have  note  of  this. 

Lav.  Ay,  for  these  slips  have  made  him  noted  long ; 
Good  king,  to  be  so  mightily  abus'd  ! 

Tam.  Why  have  I  patience  to  endure  all  this.'' 

Enter  Demetrius  ««(^/ Chiron. 

Detn.  How   now,    dear    sovereign    and    our  gracious 
mother, 
Why  doth  your  highness  look  so  pale  and  wan  ? 

Tam.  Have  I  not  reason,  think  you,  to  look  pale? 
These  two  have  tic'd  me  hither  to  this  place : 
A  barren  detested  vale  you  see  it  is  ; 
The  trees,  though  summer,  yet  forlorn  and  lean, 
O'ercome  with  moss  and  baleful  mistletoe  : 
Here  never  shines  tl  ,e  sun  ;  here  nothing  breeds, 
Unless  the  nightly  owl  or  fatal  raven  :  — 
And  when  they  show'd  me  this  abhorred  pit. 
They  told  me,  here,  at  dead  time  of  the  night, 
A  thousand  fiends,  a  thousand  hissing  snakes, 
Ten  thousand  swelling  toads,  as  many  urchins, 
Would  make  such  fearful  and  confused  cries, 
T.A.23.]  1. 23. 


A  ct  11.^  TI TUS  A  NDRONICUS.  iSctne  111. 

As  any  mortal  body  hearing  it 

Should  straight  fall  mad,  or  else  die  suddenly. 

No  sooner  had  they  told  this  hellish  tale, 

But  straight  they  told  me  they  would  hind  nie  here 

Unto  the  body  of  a  dismal  yew, 

And  leave  me  to  this  miserable  death  : 

And  then  they  call'd  me  foul  adulteress, 

Lascivious  Goth,  and  all  the  bitterest  terms 

That  ever  ear  did  hear  to  such  effect ; 

And,  had  you  not  by  wondrous  fortune  come, 

This  v^engeance  on  me  had  they  executed. 

Revenge  it,  as  you  love  your  mother's  life. 

Or  be  not  henceforth  call'd  my  children. 

Dem.  This  is  a  witness  that  I  am  thy  son. 

[  Stabs  Bassianus. 

Chi.  And  this  for  me,  struck  home  to  show  my  strength. 
[A/so  stabs  Bassianus,  who  dies. 

Lav.  Ay,  come,  Semiramis, —  nay,  barbarous  Tamora, 
For  no  name  fits  thy  nature  but  thy  own  ! 

Tain.  Give  me  thy  poniard ;  you  shall  know,  my  boys. 
Your  mother's  hand  shall  right  your  mother's  wrong. 

Dem.  Stay,  madam  ;  here  is  more  belongs  to  her  ; 
First  thrash  the  corn,  then  after  burn  the  straw: 
This  minion  stood  upon  her  chastity, 
Upon  her  nuptial  vow,  her  loyalty, 

And  with  that  painted  hope  she  braves  your  mightiness  : 
And  shall  she  carry  this  unto  her  grave  .'' 

Chi.  An  if  she  do,  I  would  I  were  an  eunuch. 
Drag  hence  her  husband  to  some  secret  hole. 
And  make  his  dead  trunk  pillow  to  our  lust. 

Tarn.  But  when  ye  have  the  honey  ye  desire, 
Let  not  this  wasp  outlive  ye,  both  to  sting. 

Chi.  I  warrant  you,  madam,  we  will  make  that  sure. — 
Come,  mistress,  now  perforce  we  will  enjo)- 
That  nice-preserved  honesty  of  yours. 

Lav.  O  Tamora  !  thou  bear'st  a  woman's  face, — 

Tarn.  I  will  not  hear  her  speak  ;  away  with  her  ! 

Lav.  Sweet  lords,  entreat  her  hear  me  but  a  word. 

Dem.  Listen,  fair  madam  :  let  it  be  your  glory 
To  see  her  tears ;  but  be  your  heart  to  them 
As  unrelenting  flint  to  drops  of  rain. 

Lav.  When  did  the  tiger's  young  ones  teach  the  dam  ? 
O,  do  not  learn  her  wrath, —  she  taught  it  thee  ; 

I.  »4.  [T.A.24. 


A  a//.]  TITUS  AiVDRONICUS.  [Scene  III. 

The  milk  thou  suck'dst  from  her  did  turn  to  marble ; 

Even  at  thy  teat  thou  hadst  thy  tyranny. — 

Yet  every  mother  breeds  not  sons  alike  : 

[  To  Chiron\   Do  thou  entreat  her  show  a  woman  pity. 

Chi.  What,  wouldst  thou  have  me  prove  myself  a  bas- 
tard } 

Lav.  'Tis  true, —  the  raven  doth  not  hatch  a  lark  : 
Yet  have  I  heard, —  O,  could  I  find  it  now!  — 
The  lion,  mov'd  with  pity,  did  endure 
To  have  his  princely  paws  par'd  all  away  :' 
Some  say  that  ravens  foster  forlorn  children. 
The  whilst  their  own  birds  famish  in  their  nests : 
O,  be  to  me,  though  thy  hard  heart  say  no,  ^ 

Nothing  so  kind,  but  something  pitiful ! 

Tarn.  I  know  not  what  it  means. —  Away  with  her  ! 

Lav.  O,  let  me  teach  thee  !  for  my  father's  sake. 
That  gave  thee  life,  when  well  he  might  have  slain  thee, 
Be  not  obdurate,  open  thy  deaf  ears. 

Tarn.  Hadst  thou  in  person  ne'er  offended  me. 
Even  for  his  sake  am  1  pitiless. — 
Remember,  boys,  I  pour'd  forth  tears  in  vain 
To  save  your  brother  from  the  sacrifice  ; 
But  fierce  Andronicus  would  not  relent : 
Therefore,  away  with  her,  use  her  as  you  will ; 
The  worse  to  her,  the  better  lov'd  of  me. 

Lav.  O  Tamora,  be  call'd  a  gentle  queen, 
And  with  thine  own  hands  kill  me  in  this  place  ! 
For  'tis  not  life  that  1  have  begg'd  so  long ; 
Poor  I  was  slain  when  Bassianus  died. 

Tarn.  What  begg'st  thou,  then  .''  fond  woman,  let  me 
go. 

Lav.  'Tis  present  death  I  beg ;  and  one  thing  more 
That  womanhood  denies  my  tongue  to  tell  : 
O,  keep  me  from  their  worse  than  killing  lust, 
And  tumble  me  into  some  loathsome  pit, 
Where  never  man's  eye  may  behold  my  body  : 
Do  this,  and  be  a  charitable  murderer. 

Tarn.  So  should  I  rob  my  sweet  sons  of  their  fee : 
No,  let  them  satisfy  their  lust  on  thee. 

De)n.  Away !  for  thou  hast  stay'd  us  here  too  long. 

Lav.  No  grace  }  no  womanhood  }  Ah,  beastly  creature ! 
The  blot  and  enemy  to  our  general  name ! 
Confusion  fall  — 

T.A.2S.]  1. 35. 


Act  n.'\  T/TUS  ANDROA'ICUS.  {Scene  m. 

Chi.  Nay,  then  I'll  stop  your  mouth. —  Bring  thou  her 
husband  : 
This  is  the  hole  where  Aaron  bid  us  hide  him. 

\_Demetrius  thrcnus  the  body  of  Bassianus 
into  the  pit  ;  then  exeunt  Demetrius 
and  Chiron,  draggi7ig  off  Lai'inia. 
Tarn.  Farewell,  my  sons  :  see  that  you  make  her  sure  :  — 
Ne'er  let  my  heart  know  merry  cheer  indeed 
Till  all  th'  Andronici  be  made  away. 
Now  will  I  hence  to  seek  my  lovely  Moor, 
And  let  my  spleenful  sons  this  trull  deflour.  \Exit. 

Re-enter  Aaron,  luith  C2uintus  attd  Martius. 

Aar.  Come  on,  my  lords,  the  better  foot  before : 
Straight  will  I  bring  you  to  the  loathsome  pit 
Where  I  espied  the  panther  fast  aslee]). 

Quin.  My  sight  is  very  dull,  whate'er  it  bodes. 

Mart.  And  mine,  I  promise  you  ;  were't  not  for  shame, 
Well  could  I  leave  our  sport  to  sleep  a  while. 

[Fat/s  into  the  pit. 

Quin.  What,  art   thou   fall'n  .^  —  What  subtle  hole  is 
this. 
Whose  mouth  is  cover'd  with  rude-growing  briers, 
Upon  whose  leaves  are  drops  of  new-shed  blood 
As  fresh  as  morning  dew  distill'd  on  flowers.'* 
A  very  fatal  place  it  seems  to  me. — 
Speak,  brother,  hast  thou  hurt  thee  with  the  fall  ? 

Mart.  O  brother,  with  the  dismal'st  object  hurt 
That  ever  eye  with  sight  made  heart  lament ! 

Aar.  \aside\  Now  will  I  fetch  the  king  to  find   them 
here. 
That  he  thereby  may  give  a  likely  guess 
How  these  were  they  that  made  away  his  brother.      \Exit. 

Mart.  Why  dost  not  comfort  me,  and  help  me  out 
From  this  unhallow'd  and  blood-stained  hole  .'' 

Quin.  I  am  surprised  with  an  uncouth  fear ; 
A  chilling  sweat  o'erruns  my  trembling  joints  ; 
My  heart  suspects  more  than  mine  eye  can  see. 

Mart.  To  prove  thou  hast  a  true-divining  heart, 
Aaron  and  thou  look  down  into  this  den, 
And  see  a  fearful  sight  of  blood  and  death. 

Quin.  Aaron  is  gone  ;  and  my  compassionate  heart 
Will  not  per«~»'"  -^vkie  eyes  once  to  behold 

1. 26.  [T.A.26 


Act  n.1  TITUS  ANDROXICUS.  {Scene  III. 

The  thing  whereat  it  trembles  by  surmise  : 
O,  tell  me  how  it  is  ;  for  ne'er  till  now 
Was  I  a  child  to  fear  I  know  not  what. 

Mart.  Lord  Bassianus  lies  embrewed  here, 
All  on  a  heap,  like  to  a  slaughter'd  lamb, 
In  this  detested,  dark,  blood-drinking  pit. 

Qiiin.  If  it  be  dark,  how  dost  thou  know  'tis  he  ? 

Mart.  Upon  his  bloody  finger  he  doth  wear 
A  precious  ring,  that  lightens  all  the  hole, 
Which,  like  a  taper  in  some  monument, 
Doth  shine  upon  the  dead  man's  earthy  cheeks. 
And  shows  the  ragged  entrails  of  the  pit : 
So  pale  did  shine  the  moon  on  Pyramus 
When  he  by  night  lay  bath'd  in  maiden  blood. 

0  brother,  help  me  with  thy  fainting  hand  — 
If  fear  hath  made  thee  faint,  as  me  it  hath  — 
Out  of  this  fell-devouring  receptacle. 

As  hateful  as  Cocytus'  misty  mouth. 

(lutH.  Reach  me  thy  hand,  that  I  may  help  thee  out, 
Or,  wanting  strength  to  do  thee  so  much  good, 

1  may  be  plucked  into  the  swallowing  womb 
Of  this  deep  pit,  poor  Bassianus'  grave. 

I  have  no  strength  to  pluck  thee  to  the  brink. 

Mart.    Nor    I    no    strength    to    climb    without    thy 
help. 

Qtiin.  Thy  hand  once  more  ;  I  will  not  loose  again, 
Till  thou  art  here  aloft,  or  I  below  : 
Thou  canst  not  come  to  me,—  I  come  to  thee.     [Falls  in. 

Enter  Saturninus  with  Aaron. 

Sat.  Along  with  me  :  I'll  see  what  hole  is  here, 
And  what  he  is  that  now  is  leap'd  into  it. — 
Say,  who  art  thou  that  lately  didst  descend 
Into  this  gaping  hollow  of  the  earth  } 

Mart.  The  unhappy  son  of  old  Andronicus; 
Brought  hither  in  a  most  unlucky  hour, 
To  find  thy  brother  Bassianus  dead. 

Sat.  My  brother  dead  !  I  know  thou  dost  but  jest : 
He  and  his  lady  both  are  at  the  lodge 
Upon  the  north  side  of  this  pleasant  chase  ; 
'Tis  not  an  hour  since  I  left  him  there. 

Mart.  We  know  not  where  you  left  him  all  alive  ; 
But,  out,  alas  !  here  have  we  found  him  dead. 
r,A.27.J  I.  27. 


A  ct  I/.]  TI  Tl  'S  A  NDROXICUS.  [Scene  III. 

Re-enter  Tamora,  with  Attendants  ;  TiTUS  Androni- 

cus,  ««rt' Lucius. 

Tarn.  Where  is  my  lord  the  king  ? 

Sat.  Here,  Tamora ;  though  griev'd  with  killing  grief. 

Tain.  Where  is  thy  brother  liassianus  .'' 

Sat.  Now  to  the  bottom  dost  thou  search  my  wound  : 
Poor  Bassianus  here  lies  murdered. 

Tarn.  Then  all  too  late  I  bring  this  fatal  writ, 

[ Gri'tng  a  letter  to  Sat. 
The  complot  of  this  timeless  tragedy; 
And  wonder  greatly  that  man's  face  can  fold 
In  pleasing  smiles  such  murderous  tyranny. 

Sat.  \read$\  "  An  if  we  miss  to  meet  him  handsomely, — 
Sweet  huntsman,  Bassianus  'tis  we  mean, — 
Do  thou  so  much  as  dig  the  grave  for  him  : 
Thou  know'st  our  meaning.     Look  for  thy  reward 
Among  the  nettles  at  the  elder-tree 
Which  overshades  the  mouth  of  that  same  pit 
Where  we  decreed  to  bury  Bassianus. 
Do  this,  and  purchase  us  thy  lasting  friends." — 

0  Tamora  !  was  ever  heard  the  like  .''  — 
This  is  the  pit,  and  this  the  elder-tree. — 
Look,  sirs,  if  you  can  find  the  huntsman  out 
That  should  have  murder'd  Bassianus  here. 

Aar.  My  gracious  lord,  here  is  the  bag  of  gold. 

\Showing  if. 

Sat.  [to  Titus]  Two  of  thy  whelps,  fell  curs  of  bloody 
kind, 
Have  here  bereft  my  brother  of  his  life. — 
Sirs,  drag  them  from  the  pit  unto  the  prison  : 
There  let  them  bide  until  we  have  devis'd 
Some  never-heard-of  torturing  pain  for  them. 

Tarn.  What,  are  they  in  this  pit.''     O  wondrous  thing! 
How  easily  murder  is  discovered  ! 

Tit.  High  emperor,  upon  my  feeble  knee 

1  beg  this  boon,  with  tears  not  lightly  shed, 
That  this  fell  fault  of  my  accursed  sons,— 
Accursed,  if  the  fault  be  prov'd  in  them, — 

Sat.  If  it  be  prov'd  !  you  see  it  is  apparent.— 
Who  found  this  letter?  Tamora,  was  it  vou  .-* 
Tarn.  Andronicus  himself  did  take  it  up. 
Tit.  I  did,  my  lord  :  yet  let  rre  be  their  bail ; 

I.  a8  [T.A.28. 


Act//.]  T/Ti'S  AXDRON'/crS.  [Scene /V. 

For,  by  my  father's  reverent  tomb,  I  vow 
They  shall  be  ready  at  your  highness'  will 
To  answer  their  suspicion  with  their  lives. 

Sai.  Thou  shalt  not  bail  tht>m  :  see  thou  follow  me. — 
Some  bring  the  murder'd  body,  some  the  murderers  : 
Let  them  not  speak  a  word, —  the  guilt  is  plain  ; 
For,  by  my  soul,  were  there  worse  end  than  death, 
That  end  upon  them  should  be  executed. 

Tail/.  Andronicus,  I  will  entreat  the  king: 
Fear  not  thy  sons ;  they  shall  do  well  enough. 

Tit.  Come,  Lucius,  come;  stay  not  to  talk  with  them. 

\Exmtnt   Satiirninus,    Taniora,    Aaron,  and 

Attendants,  with  Qidntus,  Martins,  and 

the  body  of  Bassianus ;  then  Andronicus 

and  Lucius. 

Scene  IV.  Another  part  of  the  forest. 

£";;/^  Demetrius  (z;/c/ Chiron,  with  Lavinia,  rav- 
ished ;  her  hands  cut  off,  and  her  tongue  cut  out. 

Dem.  So,  now  go  tell,  an  if  thy  tongue  can  speak. 
Who  'twas  that  cut  thy  tongue  and  ravish'd  thee. 

Chi.  Write  down  thy  mind,  bewray  thy  meaning  so, 
An  if  thy  stumps  will  let  thee  play  the  scribe. 

Dem.  See,  how  with  signs  and  tokens  she  can  scrowl. 

Chi.  Go  home,  call  for  sweet  water,  wash  thy  hands. 

Dem.  She  hath  no  tongue  to  call,  nor  hands  to  wash ; 
And  so  let's  leave  her  to  her  silent  walks. 

Chi.  An  'twere  my  case,  I  should  go  hang  myself. 

Dem.  If  thou  hadst  hands  to  help  thee  knit  the  cord. 
[^Exeunt  Demetrius  and  Chiron. 

Enter  Marcus. 

Mar.  Who's    this, — -my   niece, —  thot    flies    away    so 
fast  }  — 
Cousin,  a  word  ;  where  is  vour  husband  ?  — 
If  I  do  dream,  would  all  my  wealth  would  wake  me  ' 
If  I  do  wake,  some  planet  strike  me  down, 
That  I  may  slumber  in  eternal  sleep  !  — 
Speak,  gentle  niece, —  what  stern  ungentle  hands 
Have  lopp'd  and  hew'd  and  made  thy  body  bare 
Of  her  two  branches, —  those  sweet  ornaments. 
Whose  circling  shadows  kings  have  sought  to  sleep  'o. 
T.A.29.]  ].  29. 


net  11.1  TITUS  A\DRONICL'S.  [Scene /I 

And  might  not  gain  so  great  a  happiness 

As  have  tliy  love  ?     Why  dost  not  speak  to  me  ?  — 

Alas,  a  crimson  river  of  warm  blood, 

Like  to  a  bubbling  fountain  stirr'd  with  wind. 

Doth  rise  and  fall  between  thy  rosed  lips, 

Coming  and  going  with  thy  honey  breath. 

But,  sure,  some  Tereus  hath  defloured  thee. 

And,  lest  thou  shouldst  detect  him,  cut  thy  tongue. 

Ah,  now  thou  turn'st  away  thy  face  for  shame  ! 

And,  notwithstanding  all  this  loss  of  blood,— 

As  from  a  conduic  with  three  issuing  spouts, — 

Yet  do  thy  cheeks  look  red  as  Titan's  face 

Blushing  to  be  encounter'd  with  a  cloud. 

Shall  I  speak  for  thee  .''  shall  I  say  'tis  so.'* 

O  that  I  knew  thy  heart  !  and  knew  the  beast, 

That  I  might  rail  at  him,  to  ease  my  mind  ! 

Sorrow  concealed,  like  an  oven  stopp'd. 

Doth  burn  the  heart  to  cinders  where  it  is. 

Fair  Philomela,  she  but  lost  her  tongue, 

And  in  a  tedious  sampler  sew'd  her  mind  : 

But,  lovely  niece,  that  mean  is  cut  from  thee ; 

A  craftier  Tereus,  cousin,  hast  thou  met,  • 

And  he  hath  cut  those  pretty  fingers  off, 

That  could  have  better  sew'd  than  Philomel. 

O,  had  the  monster  seen  those  lily  hands 

Tremble,  like  aspen-leaves,  upon  a  lute. 

And  make  the  silken  strings  delight  to  kiss  them, 

He  would  not,  then,  have  touch'd  them  for  his  life ! 

Or,  had  he  heard  the  heavenly  harmony 

Which  that  sweet  tongue  hath  made. 

He  would  have  dropp'd  his  knife,  and  fell  asleep 

As  Cerberus  at  the  Thracian  poet's  feet. 

Come,  let  us  go,  and  make  thy  father  blind  ; 

r'or  such  a  sight  will  blind  a  father's  eye  : 

One  hour's  storm  will  drown  the  fragrant  meads; 

What  will  whole  months  of  tears  thy  father's  eyes.'* 

Do  not  draw  back,  for  we  will  mourn  with  tb^e  : 

O  could  ou.v  mourning  ease  thy  misery!  [ExeufiL 


I.  lo.  It. A. 30, 


Act///.]  T/TUS  AXDKOXICUS.  [Scene/. 

ACT  III. 

ScKNF,  I.  Ronir.  A  street. 

Enter  Senators,  Tribunes,  and  Oflicers  of  Justice,  with 

Martius  <?//(/ Quintus,  bound,  passing  on  to  the 

place  of  execution  ;  TiTUS  going  before,  pleading. 

Tit.  Hear  me,  grave  fathers  !  noble  tribunes,  stay  ! 
For  pity  of  mine  age,  whose  youth  was  spent 
In  dangerous  wars,  whilst  you  securely  slept; 
For  all  my  blood  in  Rome's  great  quarrel  shed  ; 
For  all  the  frosty  nights  that  I  have  watch'd  ; 
And  for  these  bitter  tears,  which  now  you  see 
Filling  the  aged  wrinkles  in  my  cheeks  ; 
Be  pitiful  to  my  condemned  sons, 
Whose  souls  are  not  corrupted  as  'tis  thought, 
For  two-and-twenty  sons  I  never  wept. 
Because  they  died  in  honor's  lofty  bed. 
For  these,  these,  tribunes,  in  the  dust  I  write 

1  Throzving  himself  on  the  ground. 
My  heart's  deep  languor  and  my  soul's  sad  tears: 
Let  my  tears  stanch  the  earth's  dry  ajipetite  ; 
My  sons'  sweet  blood  will  make  it  shame  and  blush. 

[^Exeunt  Senators,  Tribunes,  &^c.,  luith  the  Prisoners 
O  earth,  I  will  befriend  thee  more  with  rain. 
That  shall  distill  from  these  two  ancient  urns. 
Than  youthful  April  shall  with  all  his  showers: 
In  summer's  drought  I'll  drop  upon  thee  still ; 
In  winter  with  warm  tears  I'll  melt  the  snow. 
And  keep  eternal  spring-time  on  thy  face. 
So  thou  refuse  to  drink  my  dear  sons'  blood. 

Enter  LUCIUS,  "cuith    his  S-i>ord  drawn. 

O  reverend  tribunes !  gentle,  aged  men  ! 
Unbind  my  sons,  reverse  the  doom  of  death  ; 
And  let  me  say,  that  never  wept  before. 
My  tears  are  now  prevailing  orators. 

Luc.  O  noble  father,  you  lament  in  vain  : 
The  tribunes  hear  you  not  ;  no  man  is  by; 
And  you  recount  your  sorrows  to  a  stone. 

Tit.  Ah,  Lucius,  for  thy  bnnhers  let  me  plead. — 
Grave  tribunes,  once  more  I  entreat  of  you, — 

Luc.  My  gracious  lord,  no  tribune  hears  you  speak. 
r.A.31.]  I.  ^i. 


A  ct  ln.'\  T(  rUS  A  NDRONIPUS.  Scene  i . 

Tit.  Why,  'tis  no  matter,  man  :  if  they  did  hear, 
They  would  not  mariv  me  ;  or  if  they  did  mark, 
They  would  not  pity  me.     Yet  plead  I  must : 
And  bootless  unto  them  since  I  complain, 
Th*refore  I  tell  my  sorrows  to  the  stones; 
Who,  though  they  cannot  answer  my  distress. 
Yet  in  some  sort  they're  better  than  the  tribunes, 
For  that  they  will  not  intercept  my  tale  : 
When  I  do  weep,  they  humbly  at  my  feet 
Receive  my  tears,  and  seem  to  weep  with  me ; 
And,  were  they  but  attired  in  grave  weeds, 
Rome  could  afford  no  tribune  like  to  these. 
A  stone  is  soft  as  wax, —  tribunes  more  hard  than  stones  , 
A  stone  is  silent,  and  offendeth  not, — 
And  tribunes  with  their  tongues  doom  men  to  death. — 

But  wherefore  stand'st  thou  with  thy  weapon  drawn  } 
Luc.  To  rescue  my  two  brothers  from  their  death  ; 
For  which  attempt  the  judges  have  pronounc'd 
My  everlasting  doom  of  banishment. 

Tzt.  O  happy  man  !  they  have  befriended  thee. 
Why,  foolish  Lucius,  dost  thou  not  perceive 
That  Rome  is  but  a  wilderness  of  tigers  } 
Tigers  must  prey;  and  Rome  affords  no  prey 
But  me  and  mine :  how  happy  art  thou,  then, 
From  these  devourers  to  be  banished!  — 
But  who  comes  with  our  brother  Marcus  here  } 

Enter   MARCUS  and  Lavinia. 

Marc.  Titus,  prepare  thy  aged  eyes  to  weep  ; 
Or,  if  not  so,  thy  noble  heart  to  break  : 
I  bring  consuming  sorrow  to  thine  age. 

Tit.  Will  It  ccwTsume  me.''  let  me  see  it,  then. 

Marc.  This  was  thy  daughter. 

Tit.  Why,  Marcus,  so  she  is 

Lite.  Ay  me,  this  object  kills  me  ! 

Tit.  Faint-hearted  boy,  arise,  and  look  upon  her. — 
Speak,  my  Lavinia,  what  accursed  hand 
Hath  made  thee  handless  in  thy  father's  sight  } 
What  fool  hath  added  water  to  the  sea. 
Or  brought  a  fagot  to  bright-burning  Troy  } 
My  grief  was  at  the  height  before  thou  cam'st ; 
And  now,  like  Nilus,  it  disdaineth  bounds. — 

I.  32.  (T.A.32. 


Act///.]  T/TUS  ANDRON/CUS.  \Scene !. 

Gh'e  me  a  sword,  I'll  chop  off  my  hands  too; 
For  they  have  fought  for  Rome,  and  all  in  vain  ; 
And  they  have  nurs'd  this  woe,  in  feeding  hfe ; 
In  bootless  prayer  have  they  been  held  up, 
And  they  have  serv'd  me  to  effectless  use  : 
Now  all  the  service  I  require  of  them 
Is,  that  the  one  will  help  to  cut  the  other. — 
'Tis  well,  Lavinia,  that  thou  hast  no  hands  ; 
For  hands,  to  do  Rome  service,  are  but  vain. 

Lite.  Speak,  gentle  sister,  who  hath  marlyr'd  thee  ? 

Marc.  O,  that  delightful  engine  of  her  tiioughts, 
That  blabb'd  them  with  such  pleasing  eloquence. 
Is  torn  from  forth  that  pretty  hollow  cage. 
Where,  like  a  sweet  melodious  bird,  it  sung 
Sweet-varied  notes,  enchanting  every  ear  ! 

Luc.   O,    say    thou    for    her,    who    hath     done    this 
deed  ? 

Marc.  O,  thus  I  found  her,  straying-  in  the  park, 
Seeking  to  hide  herself,  as  doth  the  deer 
That  hath  receiv'd  some  unrecuring  wound. 

Tit.  It  was  my  deer  ;  and  he  that  wounded  her 
Hath  hurt  me  more  than  had  he  kill'd  me  dead  : 
For  now  I  stand  as  one  upon  a  rock, 
Environ'd  with  a  wilderness  of  sea; 
Who  marks  the  waxing  tide  grow  wave  by  wive, 
Expecting  ever  when  some  envious  surge 
Will  in  his  brinish  bowels  swallow  him. 
This  way  to  death  my  wretched  sons  are  gone ; 
Here  stands  my  other  son,  a  banish'd  man  ; 
And  here  my  brother,  weeping  at  my  woes : 
But  that  which  gives  my  soul  the  greatest  spurn, 
Is  dear  Lavinia,  dearer  than  my  soul. — 
Had  I  but  seen  thy  picture  in  this  plight, 
It  would  have  madded  me  :  what  shall  I  do 
Now  I  behold  thy  lively  body  so  } 
Thou  hast  no  hands  to  wipe  away  thy  tears  ; 
Nor  tongue  to  tell  me  who  hath  martyr'd  thee  : 
Thy  husband  he  is  dead  ;  and  for  his  death 
Thy  brothers  are  condemn 'd,  and  dead  by  this.^ 
Look,  Marcus  !  ah,  son  Lucius, look  on  her  I 
When  I  did  name  her  brothers,  then  fresh  tears 
Stood  on  her  cheeks,  as  doth  the  honey-dew 
Upon  a  gather'd  lily  almost  wither'd. 
T.A.33.]  I.  33. 


A  ct  III.I  TI TUS  A  NDRONICUS.  [Scene  I. 

Marc.  Perchance  she  weeps  because  they  killed  her 
husband ; 
Perchance  because  she  knows  them  innocent. 

Tit.   if  they  did  kill  thy  husband,  then  be  joyful. 
Because  the  law  hath  ta'en  revenge  on  them. — 
No,  no,  they  would  not  do  so  foul  a  deed ; 
Witness  the  sorrow  that  their  sister  makes. — 
Gentle  Lavinia,  let  me  kiss  thy  lijjs ; 
Or  make  some  sign  how  I  may  do  thee  ease : 
Shall  thy  good  uncle,  and  thy  brother  Lucius, 
And  thou,  and  1,  sit  round  about  some  fountain, 
Looking  all  downwards,  to  behold  our  cheeks 
How  they  are  staind,  as  meadows,  yet  not  dry. 
With  miry  slime  left  on  them  by  a  flood  ? 
And  in  the  fountain  shall  we  gaze  so  long 
Till  the  fresh  taste  be  taken  from  that  clearness, 
And  made  a  brine-pit  with  our  bitter  tears  .'' 
Or  shall  we  cut  away  our  hands,  like  thine  } 
Or  shall  we  bite  our  tongues,  and  in  dumb-shows 
Pass  the  remainder  of  our  hateful  days  ? 
What  shall  we  do  }  let  us,  that  have  our  tongues. 
Plot  some  device  of  further  misery. 
To  make  us  wonder'd  at  in  time  to  come. 

Lhc.  Sweet  father,  cease  your  tears  ;  for,  at  your  grief, 
See  how  my  wretched  sister  sobs  and  weeps. 

Marc.  Patience,    dear   niece. —  Good  Titus,   dry  thine 
eyes. 

Tit.  Ah,  Marcus,  Marcus !  brother,  well  I  wot 
Thy  napkin  cannot  drink  a  tear  of  mine. 
For  thou,  poor  man,  hast  drown'd  it  with  thine  own. 

Luc.  Ah,  my  Lavinia,  I  will  wipe  thy  cheeks. 
Tit.  Mark,  Marcus,  mark  !  I  understand  her  signs  : 
Had  she  a  tongue  to  speak,  now  would  she  say 
That  to  her  brother  which  1  said  to  thee : 
His  napkin,  with  his  true  tears  all  bewet. 
Can  do  no  service  on  her  sorrowful  cheeks. 
O,  what  a  sympathy  of  woe  is  this, — 
As  far  from  help  as  Limbo  is  from  bliss ! 

Enter  A  A  RON. 

Aar.  Titus  Andronicus,  my  lord  the  tmperor 
Sends  thee  this  word, —  that,  if  thou  love  thy  sons, 
Let  Marcus,  Lucius,  or  thyself,  old  Titus, 

1.  34.  [T.A.34. 


^ct///.]  TITUS  ANDROXICUS.  [Scene  t 

Or  any  one  of  you,  chop  off  your  hand, 
And  send  it  to  the  king :  he  for  the  same 
Will  send  thee  hither  both  thy  sons  alive ; 
And  that  shall  be  tiie  ransom  for  their  fault. 

Tit.  O  gracious  emperor  I  O  gentle  Aaron ! 
Did  ever  raven  sing  so  like  a  lark. 
That  gives  sweet  tidings  of  the  sun's  uprise  ? 
With  all  my  heart,  I'll  send  the  emperor 
My  hand  : 
Good  Aaron,  wilt  thou  help  to  chop  it  off  ? 

Luc.  Stay,  father !  for  that  noble  hand  of  thine, 
That  hath  thrown  down  so  many  enemies. 
Shall  not  be  sent :  my  hand  will  serve  the  turn  : 
My  youth  can  better  spare  my  blood  than  you  : 
And  therefore  mine  shall  save  my  brothers'  lives. 

Marc.  Which  of  your  hands  hath  not  defended  Rome 
And  rear'd  aloft  the  bloody  battle-ax. 
Writing  destruction  on  the  enemy's  castle.'' 
O,  none  of  both  but  are  of  high  desert  : 
My  hand  hath  been  but  idle  ;  let  it  serve 
To  ransom  my  two  nephews  from  their  death  ; 
Then  have  I  kept  it  to  a  worthy  end. 

Aar.  Nay,  come,  agree  whose  hand  shall  go  along. 
For  fear  they  die  before  their  pardon  come. 

Marc.    My  hand  shall  go. 

Luc.  By  heaven,  it  shall  not  go  ! 

Tif.  Sirs,  strive  no  more  :  such  wither'd  herbs  as  these 
Are  meet  for  plucking  up,  and  therefore  mine. 

Luc.  Sweet  father,  if   I  shall  be  thought  thy  son. 
Let  me  redeem  my  brothers  both  from  death. 

Marc.  And,  for  our  father's  sake  and  mother's  care. 
Now  let  me  show  a  brother's  love  to  thee. 

Tit.  Agree  between  you  ;  I  will  spare  my  hand. 

Luc.  Then  I'll  go  fetch  an  ax. 

Marc.  But  I  will  use  the  ax. 

\Exeuiit  Lucius  and  Marcus. 

Tit.  Come  hither,  Aaron  ;  I'll  deceive  them  both  : 
Lend  me  thy  hand,  and  I  will  give  thee  mine. 

A.zr.  [aside]   If  that  be  called  deceit,  I  will  be  honest.. 
And  never,  whilst  I  live,  deceive  men  so  : 
But  I'll  deceive  you  in  another  sort 
And  that  you'll  say,  ere  half  an  hour  pass. 

[Cuts  off  Titus's  hand. 

r.A.35.]  I.  35- 


Act  I  I  I. 'X  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  I 

Re-enter  Lucius  and  Marcus. 

Tt'f.    Now   stay   your    strife  :   what    shall  be   is    dis- 
patch'd. — 
Good  Aaron,  give  his  majesty  my  hand  : 
Tell  him  it  was  a  hand  that  warded  him 
From  thousand  dangers ;  bid  him  bury  it ; 
More  hath  it  merited, —  that  let  it  have. 
As  for  my  sons,  say  I  account  of  them 
As  jewels  purchas'd  at  an  easy  price; 
And  yet  dear  too,  because  I  bought  mine  own. 

Aar.  I  go,  Andronicus  :  and  for  thy  hand 
Look  by  and  by  to  have  thy  sons  with  thee  :  — 
[Aside]  Their  heads,  I  mean.     O,  how  this  villainy 
Doth  fat  me  with  the  very  thoughts  of  it  ! 
Let  fools  do  good,  and  fair  men  call  for  grace, 
Aaron  will  have  his  soul  black  like  his  face.  [Exit. 

'Tit.  O.  here  I  lift  this  one  hand  up  to  heaven, 
And  bow  this  feeble  ruin  to  the  earth  : 
If  any  power  pities  wretched  tears, 
To  that  I  call  \'—\To  Lav.]  What,  wilt  thou  kneel  with 

me.'' 
Do,  then,  dear  heart;  for  heaven  shall  hear  our  prayers, 
Or  with  our  sighs  we'll  breathe  the  welkin  dim, 
And  stain  the  sun  with  fog,  as  sometime  clouds 
When  they  do  hug  him  in  their  melting  bosoms. 

Marc.  O,  brother,  speak  with  possibility, 
And  do  not  break  into  these  deep  extremes. 

Tit.  Are  not  my  sorrows  deep,  having  no  bottom  ? 
Then  be  my  passions  bottomless  with  them. 

Marc.  But  yet  let  reason  govern  thy  lament. 

Tit.  If  there  were  reason  for  these  miseries. 
Then  into  limits  could  I  bind  my  woes  : 
When  heaven  doth  weep,  doth  not  the  earth  o'erflow  ? 
If  the  winds  r.ige,  doth  not  the  sea  wax  mad. 
Threatening  the  welkin  with  his  big-swoln  face? 
And  wilt  thou  have  a  reason  for  this  coil  } 
I  am  the  sea ;  hark,  how  her  sighs  do  blow ! 
She  is  the  weeping  welkin,  I  the  earth  : 
Then  mu.st  my  sea  be  moved  with  her  sighs  ; 
Then  must  my  earth  with  her  continual  tears 
Become  a  deluge,  overllow'd  and  drown'd  : 
For  why  my  bowels  cannot  hide  her  woes. 
But  like  a  drunkard  must  I  vomit  them. 

I-  i6.  [T.A.36. 


4  ct  ///.]  Tl  TUS  A  XDRONICUS.  [Scene  I 

Then  give  me  leave  ;  for  losers  will  have  leave 
To  ease  their  stomachs  with  their  bitter  tongues. 

Enter  a  Messenger,  with  two  heads  and  a  hand. 

Mess.  Worthy  Andronicus,  ill  art  thou  repaid 
For  that  good  hand  thou  senl'st  the  emperor. 
Here  are  the  heads  of  thy  two  noble  sons ; 
And  here's  thy  hand,  in  scorn  to  thee  sent  back, — 
Thy  griefs  their  sport,  thy  resolution   mock'd  ; 
That  woe  is  me  to  think  upon  thy  woes 
More  than  remembrance  of  my  father's  death. 

Marc.  Now  let  hot  vEtna  cool  in  Sicily, 
And  be  my  heart  an  ever-burning  hell ! 
These  miseries  are  more  than  may  be  borne. 
To  weep  with  them  that  weep  doth  ease  some  deal  ; 
But  sorrow  flouted-at  is  double  death. 

Luc.  Ah,  that  this  sight  should  make  so  deep  a  wound, 
And  yet  detested  life  not  shrink  thereat  ! 
That  ever  death  should  let  life  bear  his  name. 
Where  life  hath  no  more  interest  but  to  breathe ! 

\^LaviHia  kisses  Titus. 

Marc.  Alas,  poor  heart,  that  kiss  is  comfortless 
As  frozen  water  to  a  starved  snake. 

Tit.  When  will  this  fearful  slumber  have  an  end  .'' 

Marc.  Now,  farewell,  flattery  :  die,  Andronicus  ; 
Thou  dost  not  slumber :  see,  thy  two  sons'  heads, 
•Thy  warlike  hand,  thy  mangled  daughter  here  ; 
Thy  other  banish'd  son,  with  this  dear  sight 
Struck  pale  and  bloodless  ;  and  thy  brother,  I, 
Even  like  a  stony  image,  cold  and  numb. 
Ah,  now  no  more  wdl  I  control  thy  griefs  : 
Rent  off  thy  silver  hair,  thy  other  hand 
Gnawing  with  thy  teeth  ;  and  be  this  dismal  sight 
The  closing  up  of  our  most  wretched  eyes  : 
Now  is  a  time  to  storm  ;  why  art  thou  still .-' 

Tit.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Marc.  Why  dost   thou    laugh  ?    it    fits   not  with  this 
hour, 

Tit.  Why,  I  have  not  another  tear  to  shed  : 
Besides,  this  sorrow  is  an  enemy, 
And  would  usurp  upon  my  watery  eyes. 
And  make  them  blind  with  tributary  tears  : 
Then  which  way  shall  I  find  Revenge's  cave.'' 
T.A.37.]  1. 37. 


A  a //I.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  fl. 

For  these  two  heads  do  seem  to  speak  to  me, 

And  threat  me  I  shall  never  come  to  bliSb 

Till  all  these  mischiefs  be  return'd  again 

Even  in  their  throats  that  have  committed  them. 

Come,  let  me  see  what  task  I  have  to  do. — 

You  heavy  people,  circle  me  about, 

That  I  may  turn  me  to  each  one  of  you, 

And  swear  unto  my  soul  to  right  your  wrongs. — 

The  vow  is  made. —  Come,  brother,  take  a  head  ; 

And  in  this  hand  the  other  will  1  bear. — 

Lavinia,  thou  shalt  be  employ'd  in  these  things  ; 

Bear  thou  my  hand,  sweet  wench,  between  thy  teeth.— 

As  for  thee,  boy,  go  get  thee  from  my  sight ; 

Thou  art  an  exile,  and  thou  must  not  stay  : 

Hie  to  the  Goths,  and  raise  an  army  there  : 

And,  if  you  love  me,  as  I  think  you  do. 

Let's  kiss  and  part,  for  we  have  much  to  do. 

^Exeunt  Tt'tus,  Marcus,  atid  Lavinia. 
Luc.  Farewell,  Andronicus,  my  noble  father, — 
The  woful'st  man  that  ever  liv'd  in  Rome  : 
Farewell,  proud  Rome ;  till  Lucius  come  again. 
He  leaves  his  pledges  dearer  than  his  life  : 
Farewell,  Lavinia,  my  noble  sister ; 
O,  would  thou  wert  as  thou  tofore  hast  been  ! 
But  now  nor  Lucius  nor  Lavinia  lives 
But  in  oblivion  and  hateful  griefs. 
If  Lucius  live,  he  will  requite  your  wrongs; 
And  make  proud  Saturnine  and  his  empress 
Beg  at  the  gates,  like  Tarquin  and  his  queen. 
Now  will  I  to  the  Goths,  and  raise  a  power, 
To  be  reveng'd  on  Rome  and  Saturnine.  [Exit. 

Scene  H.  A  room  in  Titus's  Jiousc.  A  banquet  set  out. 

Enter  TiTus,  Marcus,  Lavinia.^?;/^/ Young  Lucius. 

Tit.  So,  so  ;  now  sit :  and  look  you  eat  no  more 
Than  will  preserve  just  so  much  strength  in  us 
As  will  revenge  these  bitter  woes  of  ours. 
Marcus,  unknit  that  sorrow-wreathen  knot : 
Thy  niece  and  L  poor  creatures,  want  our  hands, 
And  cannot  passionate  our  tenfold  grief 
With  folded  arms.     This  poor  right  hand  of  mine 
Is  left  to  ivrannize  upon  my  breast ; 

1. 38.  [T.A.38. 


Act  in.']  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  IScene  11. 

And  when  my  heart,  all  mad  with  misery, 

Beats  in  this  hollow  prison  of  my  flesh, 

Then  thus  I  thum[)  it  clown. — 

[To  Liwim'a]   Thou   map  of  woe,  that  thus  dost  talk  in 

signs ! 
VV^hen  thy  poor  heart  beats  with  outrageous  beating. 
Thou  canst  not  strike  it  thus  to  make  it  still. 
Wound  it  with  sighing,  girl,  kill  it  with  groans; 
Or  get  some  little  knife  between  thy  teeth. 
And  just  against  thy  heart  make  thou  a  hole; 
That  all  the  tears  that  thy  poor  eyes  let  fall 
May  run  into  that  sink,  and,  soaking  in. 
Drown  the  lamenting  fool  in  sea-salt  tears. 

Marc.  Fie,  brother,  fie  !  teach  her  not  thus  to  lay 
Such  violent  hands  upon  her  tender  life. 

Tit.  How  now  !  has  sorrow  made  thee  dote  already .-' 
Why,  Marcus,  no  man  should  be  mad  but  I. 
What  violent  hands  can  she  lay  on  her  life  .'' 
Ah,  wherefore  dost  thou  urge  the  name  of  hands ;  — 
To  bid  Tineas  tell  the  tale  twice  o'er. 
How  Troy  was  burnt,  and  he  made  miserable.'* 
O,  handle  not  the  theme,  to  talk  of  hands. 
Lest  we  remember  still  that  we  have  none. — 
Fie,  fie,  how  franticly  I  square  my  talk, — 
As  if  we  should  forget  we  had  no  hands. 
If  Marcus  did  not  name  the  word  of  hands  !  — 
Come,  let's  fall  to;  and,  gentle  girl,  eat  this:  — 
Here  is  no  drink  !  —  Hark,  Marcus,  what  she  says  ;  — 
I  can  interpret  all  her  martyr'd  signs  ;  — 
She  says  she  drinks  no  other  drink  but  tears, 
Brew'd  with  her  sorrow,  mash'd  upon  her  cheeks  :  — 
Speechless  complainer.  I  will  learn  thy  thought : 
In  thy  dumb  action  witl  I  be  as  perfect 
As  begging  hermits  in  their  holy  prayers  : 
Thou  shalt  not  sigh,  nor  hold  thy  stumps  to  heaven. 
Nor  wink,  nor  nod,  nor  kneel,  nor  make  a  sign, 
But  I  of  these  will  wrest  an  alphabet. 
And  by  still  practice  learn  to  know  thy  meaning. 

Young  Luc.  Good  grandsire,  leave  these  bitter  deep 
laments  : 
Make  my  aunt  merry  with  some  pleasing  tale. 

Marc.  Alas,  the  tender  boy.  in  passion  mov'd, 
Doth  weep  to  see  his  grandsire's  heaviness. 
T.A.39.J  1. 39. 


Act  I/r.']  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene//. 

Tit.  Peace,  tender  sapling;  thou  art  made  of  tears. 
And  tears  will  quickly  melt  thy  life  away. — 

^Marcus  strikes  the  dish  with  a  knife. 
What  dost  thou  strike  at,  Marcus,  with  thy  knife  ? 

Marc.  At  that  that  I  have  kill'd,  my  lord, —  a  fly. 

Tit.  Out  on  thee,  murderer  !  thou  kill'st  my  heart ; 
Mine  eyes  are  cloy'd  with  view  of  tyranny : 
A  deed  of  death  done  on  the  innocent 
Becomes  not  Titus'  brother :  get  thee  gone  ; 
I  see  thou  art  not  for  my  company. 

Marc.  Alas,  my  lord,  I  have  but  kill'd  a  fly. 

Tit.  But  how,  if  that  fly  had  a  father  and  mother.^ 
How  would  he  hang  his  slender  gilded  wings, 
And  buzz  lamenting  doings  in  the  air ! 
Poor  harmless  fly, 

That,  with  his  pretty  buzzing  melody. 
Came  here  to  make  us  merry  ;  and  thou  hast  kill'd  him. 

Marc.   Pardon  me,  sir  ;  it  was  a  black  ill-favor'd  fly, 
Like  to  the  empress'  Moor;  therefore  I  kill'd  him. 

Tit.  O,  O,  O, 
Then  pardon  me  for  reprehending  thee. 
For  thou  hast  done  a  charitable  deed. 
Give  me  thy  knife,  I  will  insult  on  him  ; 
Flattering  myself,  as  if  it  were  the  Moor 
Come  hither  purposely  to  poison  me. — 
There's  for  thyself,  and  that's  for  Tamora. — 
Ah,  sirrah  ! 

As  yet,  I  think,  we  are  not  brought  so  low 
But  that  between  us  we  can  kill  a  fly 
That  comes  in  likeness  of  a  coal-black  Moor. 

Alarc.  Alas,    poor   man  !    grief    has    so    wrought    on 
him,  • 

He  takes  false  shadows  for  true  substances. 

Tit.  Come,  take  away. —  Lavinia.  go  with  me  : 
I'll  to  thy  closet ;  and  go  read  with  thee 
Sad  stories  chanced  in  the  times  of  old  — 
Come,  boy,  and  go  with  me  :  thy  sight  is  young, 
And  thou  shalt  read  when  mine  begins  to  dazzle. 

{^Exeunt. 


[T.A.40. 


A  ci  ly.  1  T/  n  S  A  XDROXICUS.  {Scene  I. 

ACT    IV. 

Scene  I.     Rone.      The  garden  of  TiTUS's  house. 
Enter    TiTUS    and     iMARCUS.       Then    enter    YoUNG 

Lucius,  running,  with  books  under  his  arm,  which 
he  lets  fail,  and  V.\y\^\A.  rumiing  after  hi/n. 

Young  Luc.  Help,  grandsir*,  help  !  my  aunt  Lavinia 
Follows  me  every  vvliere,  I  know  not  why :  — 
Good  uncle  Marcus,  see  how  swift  she  comes. — 
Alas,  sweet  aunt,  I  know  not  what  you  mean. 

Marc.  Stand  by  me,  Lucius  ;  do  not  fcar  thine  aunt. 

Tit.  She  loves  thee,  boy,  too  well  to  do  thee  harm. 

Young  Luc.  Ay.  when  my  fatUer  was  in  Rome  she  did. 

Marc.  What  means  my  niece  Lavinia   by  these  signs  } 

Tit.  Fear    her    not,     Lucius:  —  somewhat    doth    she 
mean  :  — 
See,  Luci<us,  see  how  much  she  makes  of  thee : 
Somewhither  would  she  have  thee  go  with  her. 
Ah,  boy,  Cornelia  never  with  more  care 
Read  to  her  sons  than  she  hath  read  to  thee 
Sweet  poetry  and  TuUy's  Orator. 

Marc.  Canst  thou  not  guess  wherefore  she  plies  thee 
thus  ? 

Young  Luc.  My  lord,  I  know  not,  I,  nor  can  I  guess, 
Unless  some  fit  or  frenzy  do  possess  her  : 
For  I  have  heard  my  grandsire  say  full  oft. 
Extremity  of  griefs  would  make  men  mad  ; 
And  I  have  read  that  Hecuba  of  Troy 
Ran  mad  through  sorrow  :  that  made  me  to  fear ; 
Although,  my  lord,  I  know  my  noble  aunt 
Loves  me  as  dear  as  e'er  my  mothar  did. 
And  would  not,  but  in  fury,  fright  my  youth  : 
Which  made  me  down  to  throw  my  books,  and  fly, — 
Causeless,  perhaps. —  fJut  pardon  me,  sweet  aunt : 
And,  madam,  if  my  uncle  Marcus  go, 
I  will  most  willingly  attend  your  ladyship. 

Marc.  Lucius,  I  will.       [Lavinia  turns  07H'r  with  her 
stumps  the  hooks  which  Lucius  has  let  fall. 

Tit.  How  now,  Lavinia  ! —  Marcite,  what  means  this  .^ 
.Some  book  there  is  that  she  desires  to  see. — 
Which  is  it,  girl,  of  these?  —  Open  them,  boy. — 
But  thou  art  deeper  read,  and  better  skill'd  : 
Come,  and  take  choice  of  all  my  library, 

r.A.41.]  1. 41. 


Act  II '.]  T/Tl  S  a XDKOKICUS.  [Scene  I. 

And  so  beg-uile  thy  sorrow,  till  the  heavens 
Reveal  the  dainn'd  contriver  of  this  deed. — 
Why  lifts  she  up  her  arms  in  sequence  thus  ? 

Marc.  1  think  she  means  that  there  was  more  than  one 
Confederate  in  the  fact-;  — ay,  more  there  was  ; 
Or  else  to  heaven  she  heaves  them  for  revenge. 
Tit.  Lucius,  what  book  is  that  she  tosselh  so  ? 
Young  Luc.  Grandsire,  'tis  Ovid's  Metamorphoses; 
My  mother  gave  it  me. 

Marc.  For  love  of  her  that's  gone. 

Perhaps  she  cull'd  it  from  among  the  rest. 

T/t.  Soft !  see  how  busily  she  turns  the  leaves  ! 

[Helping  her. 
What  would  she  find  .''  —  Lavinia,  shall  I  read  } 
This  is  the  tragic  tale  of  Philomel, 
And  treats  of  Tereus'  treason  and  his  rape ; 
And  rape,  I  fear,  was  root  of  thine  annoy. 

Marc.  See,  brother,  see  ;  note  how  she  quotes  the  leaves. 

Ti'f.  Lavinia,  wert  thou  thus  surpris'd,  sweet  girl, 
Ravish'd  and  wrong'd,  as  Philomela  was, 
Forc'd  in  the  ruthless,  vast,  and  gloomy  woods. ^  — 
See,  see  !  — 

Ay,  such  a  place  there  is,  where  we  did  hunt  — 
O,  had  we  never,  never  hunted  there  !  — 
Pattern'd  by  that  the  poet  here  describes, 
By  nature  made  for  murders  and  for  rapes. 

Marc.  O,  why  should  nature  build  so  foul  a  den, 
Unless  the  gods  delight  in  tragedies.-' 

7'if.  Give  signs,  sweet  girl, —  for   here   are  none   but 
friends. 
What  Roman  lord  it  was  durst  do  the  deed  : 
Or  slunk  not  Saturnine,  as  Tarquin  erst, 
That  left  the  camp  to  sin  in  Lucrece'  bed  } 

Afarc.   Sit  down,  sweet  niece  :— brother,  sit  down  by 
me. — 
Apollo,  Pallas,  Jove,  or  Mercury, 
Inspire  me,  that  1  may  this  treason  fmd  !  — 
My  lord,  look  here  :— look  here,  Lavinia: 
'J'his  sandy  plot  is  plain  ;  guide,  if  thou  canst, 
This  after  me,  when  1  have  writ  my  name 
Without  the  help  of  any  hand  at  all.  \IIc  wriics  his 

name  with  his  staj)\  aiut  guides  it  7oiih  his  feet 
and  mouth. 

1.4a-  [T.A.42. 


/ict /K]  T/TtrS  A.VDRO.y/CUS.  [Scene/. 

Curs'd  be  that  heart  that  forc'd  us  to  this  shift !  — 
Write  thou,  g-ood  niece  ;  and  here  display,  at  last. 
What  God  will  have  discover'd  for  revenge  : 
Heaven  guide  thy  pen  to  print  thy  sorrows  phiin, 
That  we  may  i<now  the  traitors  and  the  trutli  ! 

[  S/ie  takes  the  staff  in  her  mouth,  and 
guides  it  with  her  stumps,  aitd  writes. 

Tit.  O,  do  ye  read,  iny  lord,  what  she  hath  writ  ?  — 
"  Sttiprum  —  Chiron  —  Demetrius." 

Mare.    What,  what!  —  the  lustful  sons  of  Tamora 
Performers  of  this  heinous,  bloody  deed  ? 

Tit.  Magne  dominator  poli. 
Tarn  lentus  audis  scelera  ?  tarn  lent  us  vides? 

Marc.  O,  calm  thee,  gentle  lord ;  although  I  know 
There  is  enough  written  upon  this  earth 
To  stir  a  mutiny  in  the  mildest  thoughts. 
And  arm  the  minds  of  infants  to  exclaims. 
My  lord,  kneel  down  with  me;  Lavinia,  kneel; 
And  kneel,  sweet  boy,  the  Roman  Hector's  hope  ; 
And  swear  with  me, —  as,  with  the  woful  fere 
And  father  of  that  chaste  dishonor'd  dame. 
Lord  Junius  Brutus  sware  for  Lucrece'  rape, — 
That  we  will  prosecute,  by  good  advice. 
Mortal  revenge  upon  these  traitorous  Goths, 
And  see  their  lilood,  or  die  with  this  reproach. 

Tit.  'Tis  sure  enough,  an  you  knew  how. 
But  if  you  hunt  these  bear-whelps,  then  beware  : 
The  dam  will  wake  ;  and,  if  she  wind  you  once, 
She's  with  the  lion  deeply  still  in  league, 
And  lulls  him  whilst  she  playeth  on  her  back. 
And  when  he  sleeps  will  she  do  what  she  list. 
You're  a  young  huntsman,  Marcus  ;  let  alone  ; 
And,  come,  I  will  go  get  a  leaf  of  brass. 
And  with  a  gad  of  steel  will  write  these  words. 
And  lay  it  by  :  the  angry  northern  wind 
Will  blow  these  sands,  like  Sibvl's  leaves,  abroad. 
And  Where's  your  lesson,  then  ?  —  Boy,  what  say  you  ? 

YoiDig  Luc.  I  say,  mv  lord,  that  if  1  were  a  man, 
Their  mother's  bed-chamber  should  not  be  safe 
For  these  bad  bondmen  to  the  yoke  of  Rome. 

.Marc.  Av,  that's  my  boy!  thy  father  hath  full  oft 
For  his  ungrateful  countrv  done  the  like. 

Yottng  Luc.  And,  uncle,  so  will  1,  an  if  I  live. 

r.A.43.]  I.  43- 


A  ct  I  V.I  TI  Tirs  A  NDRONICUS.  [Sce?ze  //. 

Ti/.  Come,  go  with  me  into  mine  armory; 
Lucius,  I'll  fit  thee;  and  withal,  my  boy, 
Shalt  carry  from  me  to  the  empress'  sons 
Presents  that  I  intend  to  send  them  both : 
Come,  come  ;  thou'lt  do  thy  message,  wilt  thou  not? 

Young  Luc.    Ay,  -with    my  dagger  in    their   bosoms, 
grandsire. 

Tit.    No,  boy,  not  so  ;  I'll  teach  thee  another  course. — 
Lavinia,  come. —  Marcus,  look  to  my  house: 
Lucius  and  I'll  go  brave  it  at  the  court ; 
Ay,  marry,  will  we,  sir;  and  we'll  be  waited  on. 

[£xe!Oi/  'Titles,  Lavinia,  and  Voting  Lucius. 

Marc.  O,  heavens,  can  you  hear  a  good  man  groan, 
And  not  relent,  or  not  compassion  him.''  — 
Marcus,  attend  him  in  his  ecstasy. 
That  hath  more  scars  of  sorrow  in  his  heart 
Than  foemen's  marks  upon  his  batter'd  shield  ; 
But  yel  so  just  that  he  will  not  revenge  :  — 
Revenge,  ye  heavens,  for  old  Andronicus  !  [Exit. 

Scene  II.      T/ie  same.     A  room  in  tiee  palace. 

Enter,  from  one  side,  Aaron,  Demetrius,  and  Q\\.\- 

RON  ; /r(7w  the  other  side,   YouNG  LUCIUS.  a«rt' 

an    Attendant,  with   a   bundle   of  weapons, 

and  verses  writ  upon  them. 

Chi.  Demetrius,  here's  the  son  of  Lucius  ; 
He  hath  some  message  to  deliver  us. 

Aar.  Ay,  some  m.;d    message   from  his    mad  grand- 
father. 
Voting  Luc.  My  lords,  with  all  the  humbleness  I  may, 
I  greet  your  honors  frqpn  Andronicus, — 
[Aside]   And  pray  the  Roman  gods  confound  you  both  ! 

Dem.  Gramercy,  lovely  Lucius:  what's  the  news.'' 

Young   Lttc.    \aside\    That    you  are    both  decipher 'd, 
that's  the  news. 
For  vilkiins  mark'd  with  ra|)e. —  May  it  please  you, 
My  grandsire,  well  advis'd,  hath  sent  by  me 
The  goodliest  wea])ons  of  his  armory 
To  gratify  your  honorable  youth. 
The  hope  of  Rome ;  for  so  he  bade  me  say; 
And  so  1  do,  and  with  his  gifts  present 
Your  lordships,  that,  whenever  you  have  need, 

1.  4+-  [T.A.44. 


Act  /r.]  Tl TUS  A NDRONICUS.  {_Scene  II 

You  may  be  armed  and  appointed  well : 

And  so  I  leave  you  both, —  \aside\  like  bloody  villains. 

[Exfitn/  i'oufi^r  Lucius  and  Attendant. 

Dein.  What's  here  ?   A  scroll ;  and  written  round  about  ? 
Let's  see :  — 
[Reads]         "Integer  vitoe,  scelertsque  pur  us, 

Non  eget  maiiri,  jaculis,  nee  arcu." 

Chi.  O,  'tis  a  verse  in  Horace  ;  1  know  it  well : 
I  read  it  in  the  grammar  long  iigo. 

Aar.  Ay,  just, —  a  verse  in  Horace ;  —  right,  you  have 
it. — 
[Aside]  Now,  what  a  thing  it  is  to  be  an  ass  I 
Here's  no  sound  jest  !  th'old  pian  hath  found  their  guilt; 
And  sends  them  weapons  wrapp'd  about  with  lines 
That  wound,  beyond  their  feeling,  to  the  quick. 
But  were  our  witty  empress  well  a-foot. 
She  would  applaud  Andronicus'  conceit : 
But  let  her  rest  in  her  unrest  awhile. — 
And  now,  young  lords,  was't  not  a  happy  star 
Led  us  to  Rome,  strangers,  and  more  than  so, 
Captives,  to  be  advanced  to  this  height  } 
It  did  me  good,  before  the  palace-gate 
To  brave  the  tribune  in  his  brother's  hearing. 

Dein.  But  me  more  good,  to  see  so  great  a  lord 
Basely  insinuate  and  send  us  gifts. 

Aar.  Had  he  not  reason,  Lord  Demetrius  } 
Did  you  not  use  his  daughter  very  friendly  } 

Devi.  I  would  we  had  a  thousand  Roman  dames 
At  such  a  bay,  by  turn  to  serve  our  lust. 

Aar.  A  charitable  wish  and  full  of  love  : 
Here  lacks  but  your  mother  for  to  say  amen. 

Chi.  And  that  would  she  for  twenty  thousand  more. 

Dem.  Come,  let  us  go  ;  and  pray  to  all  the  gods 
For  our  beloved  mother  in  her  pains. 

Aar.  Pray  to  the  devils  ;  the  gods  have  given  us  over. 

[  Flourish  with  i?i . 

Dein.  Why  do  the  emperor's  trumpets  flourish  thus? 

Chi.  Belike  for  joy  the  emperor  hath  a  son. 

Dem.  Soft !  who  comes  here  .'' 

Enter  a  Nurse,  with  a  blackamoor  Child  ///  her  arms, 

Niir.  Good  morrow,  lords  : 

O,  tell  me,  did  vou  see  Aaron  the  Moor? 
T.A.45.J  I  45. 


Act  IF.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  \,Scer.e  11. 

Aar.  Well,  more  or  less,  or  ne'er  a  whit  at  all. 
Here  Aaron  is  ;  and  what  with  Aaron  now  ? 

Nur.  O  gentle  Aaron,  we  are  all  undone  ! 
Now  help,  or  woe  betide  thee  evermore ! 

Aar.  Why,  what  a  caterwauling  dost  thou  keep  i 
What  dost  thou  wrap  and  fumble  in  thine  arms  ? 

Nur.  O,  that  which  I  would  hide  from  heaven's  eye. 
Our  empress'  shame  and  stately  Rome's  disgrace  !  — 
She  is  deliver'd,  lords,— she  is  deliver'd. 

Aar.  To  whom  ? 

Nur.  I  mean,  she's  brought  a-bed. 

Aar.  Well,  God 

uive  her  good  rest !  What  jjath  he  sent  her  ? 

Nur.  A  devil. 

Aar.  Why,  then  she's  the  devil's  dam  ;  a  joyful  issue. 

Nur.  A  joyless,  dismal,  black,  and  sorrowful  issue  : 
Here  is  the  babe,  as  loathsome  as  a  toad 
Amongst  the  fairest  breeders  of  our  clime  : 
The  empress  sends  it  thee,  thy  stamp,  thy  seal, 
And  bids  thee  christen  it  with  thy  dagger's  point. 

Aar.  Zounds,  ye  whore  !  is  black  so  base  a  hue?  — 
Sweet  blowse,  you  are  a  beauteous  blossom,  sure. 

Dem.  Villain,  what  hast  thou  done  ? 

Aar.  That  which  thou  canst  not  undo. 

Chi.  Thou  hast  undone  our  mother. 

Aar.  Villain,  I  have  done  thy  mother. 

Dem.  And  therein,  hellish  dog,  thou  hast  undone  her. 
Woe  to  her  chance,  and  damn'd  her  loathed  choice ! 
Accurs'd  the  offspring  of  so  foul  a  fiend  ! 

Chi.  It  shall  not  live. 

Aar.  It  shall  not  die. 

Nur.  Aaron,  it  must  ;  the  mother  wills  it  so. 

Aar.  What,  must  it,  nurse  ?  then  let  no  man  but  I 
Do  execution  on  my  flesh  and  blood. 

Dem.  I'll  broach  the  tadpole  on  my  rapier's  point :  — 
Nurse,  give  it  me  ;  my  sword  shall  soon  dispatch  it. 

Aar.  Sooner  this  sword  shall  i)low  thy  bowels  up. 

[  Takes  the  Child  from  the  Nurse,  and  draws. 
Stay,  murderous  villains!  will  you  kill  your  brother? 
Now,  by  the  burning  tapers  of  the  sky. 
That  shone  so  brightly  when  this  boy  was  got, 
He  dies  upon  my  scimitar's  sharp  point 
That  touches  this  my  first-born  son  and  heir! 

1. 46.  [T.A.46. 


Ac( /r.^  TITUS  ANDRO-XICUS.  [Scene  fl. 

I  tell  you,  younglings,  not  Enceladus, 

With  all  his  threatening  band  of  Typhon's  brood, 

Nor  great  Alcides,  nor  the  god  of  war, 

Shall  seize  this  prey  out  of  his  father's  hands. 

What,  what,  ye  sanguine,  shallow-hearted  boys  ! 

Ye  white-lim'd  walls  !  ye  alehouse  painted  signs  ! 

Coal-black  is  better  than  another  hue, 

In  that  it  scorns  to  bear  another  hue; 

For  all  the  water  in  the  ocean 

Can  never  turn  the  swan's  black  legs  to  white, 

Although  she  lave  them  hourly  in  the  flood. 

Tell  the  empress  from  me,  I  am  of  age 

To  keep  mine  own,  —  excuse  it  how  she  can. 

Dein.  Wilt  thou  betray  thy  noble  mistress  thus  ? 

Aar.  My  mistress  is  my  mistress  ;  this,  myself, — 
The  vigor  and  the  picture  of  my  youth  : 
This  before  all  the  world  do  I  prefer ; 
This  mauger  all  the  world  will  I  keep  safe, 
Or  some  of  you  shall  smoke  for  it  in  Rome. 

Dein.  By  this  our  mother  is  for  ever  sham'd. 

C/ii.  Rome  will  despise  her  for  this  foul  escape. 

Nur.  The  emperor,  in  his  rage,  will  doom  her  death, 

Chi.  I  blush  to  think  upon  this  ignomy. 

Aar.  Why,  there's  the  privilege  your  beauty  bears : 
Fie,  treacherous  hue,  that  will  betray  with  blushing 
The  close  enacts  and  counsels  of  the  heart  ! 
Here's  a  young  lad  frani'd  of  another  leer  : 
Look,  how  the  black  slave  smiles  upon  the  father. 
As  who  should  say,  "  Old  lad,  I  am  thine  own." 
He  is  your  brother,  lords  ;  sensibly  fed 
Of  that  self-blood  that  first  gave  life  to  you  ; 
And  from  that  womb  where  you  imprison'd  were 
He  is  enfranchised  and  come  to  light  : 
Nay,  he's  your  brother  by  the  surer  side. 
Although  my  seal  be  stamped  in  his  face. 

Nur.  Aaron,  what  shall  I  say  unto  the  empress.' 

Dem.  Advise  thee,  Aaron,  what  is  to  be  done. 
And  we  will  all  subscribe  to  thy  advice  ; 
Save  thou  the  child,  so  we  may  all  be  safe. 

Aar.  Then  sit  we  down,  and  let  us  all  consult. 
My  son  and  I  will  have  the  wind  of  you  : 
Keep  there  :  now  talk  at  pleasure  of  your  safety. 

[  T/tey  sit. 

r.A.47.]  1. 47. 


Aci  IV.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  II. 

Dem.  How  many  women  saw  this  child  of  his? 

Aar.  Why,  so,  brave  lords  !  when  we  join  in  league, 
I  am  a  lamb  :  but  if  you  brave  the  Moor, 
The  chafed  boar,  the  mountain  lioness, 
The  ocean  swells  not  so  as  Aaron  storms. — 
But  say,  again,  how  many  saw  the  child  ? 

Nitr.  Cornelia  the  midwife  and  myself; 
And  no  one  else  but  the  deliver'd  empress. 

Aar.  The  empress,  the  midwife,  and  yourself :  — 
Two  may  keep  counsel  when  the  third's  away:  — 
Go  to  the  empress,  tell  her  this  I  said  :  — 

\Hi'  stabs  her:  she  screams  and  dies. 
Weke,  weke  !  —  so  cries  a  pig  prepar'd  to  the  spit. 

Defii.  What   mean'st   thou,   Aaron.?    wherefore    didst 
thou  this.' 

Aar.  O  Lord,  sir,  'tis  a  deed  of  policy  : 
Shall  she  live  to  betray  this  guilt  of  ours, — 
A  long-tongu'd  babbling  gossip.'  no,  lords,  no: 
And  now  be  it  known  to  you  my  full  intent. 
Not  far  one  Muli  lives,  my  countryman  ; 
His  wife  but  yesternight  was  brought  to  bed ; 
His  child  is  like  to  her,  fair  as  you  are : 
Go  pack  with  him,  and  give  the  mother  gold, 
And  tell  them  both  the  circumstance  of  afl  ; 
And  how  by  this  their  child  shall  be  advanc'd. 
And  be  received  for  the  emperor's  heir. 
And  substituted  in  the  place  of  mine. 
To  calm  this  tempest  whirling  in  the  court ; 
And  let  the  emperor  dandle  him  for  his  own. 
Hark  ye,  lords  ;  ye  see  I  have  given  her  physic, 

\Pointiiii^  to  the  Nurse. 
And  you  must  needs  bestow  her  funeral  ; 
The  fields  are  near,  and  you  are  gallant  grooms  : 
This  done,  see  that  you  take  no  longer  days. 
But  send  the  midwife  presently  to  me. 
The  midwife  and  the  nurse  well  made  away, 
Then  let  the  ladies  tattle  what  they  please. 

Chi.  Aaron,  I  see  thou  wilt  not  trust  the  air 
With  secrets. 

Dem.  For  this  care  of  Tamora, 

Herself  and  hers  are  highly  bound  to  thee. 

{Exeunt  Devi,  and  Chi.,  bearing  off  the  dead  Nurse. 

Aar.  Now  to  the  Goths,  as  swift  as  swallow  flies ; 

1. 48.  [t.:v.48. 


Act /I-'.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  \_Scene  I/}. 

There  to  dispose  this  treasure  in  mine  arms, 

And  secretly  to  greet  the  empress'  friends. — 

Come  on,  you  thick-lipp'd  slave,  I'll  bear  you  hence; 

For  it  is  you  that  puts  us  to  our  shifts  : 

I'll  make  you  feed  on  berries  and  on  roots. 

And  feed  on  curds  and  whey,  and  suck  the  goat. 

And  cabin  in  a  cave ;  and  bring  you  up 

To  be  a  warrior  and  command  a  camp.  [^Extt. 

Scene  III.     The  same.     A  public  place. 

Enter  TiTUS,  bearing  arr&ws  with  letters  at  the  ends  0/ 

them;  with  him    MARCUS,  YoUNG  LUCIUS, 

PUBLIUS,  Sempronius,  Caius,  and 

other  Gentlemen,  loith  bo%vs. 

Tit.  Come,    Marcus,    come  :  —  kinsmen,    this    is    the 
way. — 
Sir  boy,  now  let  me  see  your  archery ; 
Look  ye  draw  home  enough,  and  'tis  there  straight. — 
Terras  Astrcca  reliquit  : 

Be  you  remember'd,  Marcus,  she's  gone,  she's  fled. — 
Sirs,  take  you  to  your  tools.     You,  cousins,  shall 
Go  sound  the  ocean,  and  cast  your  nets ; 
Happily  you  may  catch  her  in  the  sea  ; 
Yet  there's  as  little  justice  as  at  land  :  — 
No ;  Publius  and  Sempronius,  you  must  do  it ; 
'Tis  you  must  dig  with  mattock  and  with  spade 
And  pierce  the  inmost  center  of  the  earth  ; 
Then,  when  you  come  to  Pluto's  region, 
I  pray  you,  deliver  him  this  petition  ; 
Tell  him,  it  is  for  justice  and  for  aid. 
And  that  it  comes  from  old  Andronicus, 
Shaken  with  sorrows  in  ungrateful  Rome. — 
Ah,  Rome!  —  Well,  well  ;  I  made  thee  miserable 
What  time  I  threw  the  people's  suffrages 
On  him  that  thus  doth  tyrannize  o'er  me. — 
Go,  get  you  gone ;  and  pray  be  careful  all. 
And  leave  you  not  a  man-of-war  unsearch'd  : 
This  wicked  emperor  may  have  shipp'd  her  hence; 
And,  kinsmen,  then  we  may  go  pipe  for  justice. 

Marc.  O  Publius,  is  not  this  a  heavy  case. 
To  see  thy  noble  uncle  thus  distract  ? 

Pub.  Therefore,  my  lord,  it  highly  us  concerns 
By  day  and  night  t'  attend  him  carefully, 

T.A.49.]  1. 49. 


Aci/F.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  III 

And  feed  his  humor  kindly  as  we  may, 
Till  time  beget  some  easeful  remedy. 

Marc.  Kinsmen,  his  sorrows  are  past  remedy. 
Join  with  the  Goths ;  and  with  revengeful  war 
Take  wreak  on  Rome  for  this  ingratitude. 
And  vengeance  on  the  traitor  Saturnine. 

Tit.  Publius,  how  now  !  how  now,  my  masters  !  What 
Have  you  met  with  her  } 

Pub.  No,  my  good  lord  ;  but  Pluto  sends  you  word. 
If  you  will  have  Revenge  from  hell,  you  shall  : 
Marry,  for  Justice,  she  is  so  employ 'd. 
He  thinks,  with  Jove  in  heaven,  or  somewhere  else, 
So  that  perforce  you  must  needs  stay  a  time. 

Tit.  He  doth  me  Wrong  to  feed  me  with  delays. 
I'll  dive  into  the  burning  lake  below. 
And  pull  her  out  of  Acheron  by  th'  heels. — 
Marcus,  we  are  but  shrubs,  no  cedars  we, 
No  big-bon'd  men  fram'd  of  the  Cyclops'  size  ; 
But  metal,  Marcus,  steel  to  the  very  back, 
Yet  wrung  with  wrongs  more  than  our  backs  can  bear 
And,  sith  there's  justice  nor  in  earth  nor  hell. 
We  will  solicit  heaven,  and  move  the  gods 
To  send  down  Justice  for  to  wreak  our  wrongs. — 
Come,  to  this  gear. —  You're  a  good  archer,  Marcus  ; 

\He  giVc's  them  the  arrows. 
Ad  Jovem,  that's  for  you  :  —  Here,  Ad  Apollinem  •  — 
Ad  Martem.  that's  for  myself :  — 
Here,  boy.  To  Pallas :  —  here,  To  Mercury  :  — 
To  Saturn,  Caius,  not  to  Saturnine  ; 
You  were  as  good  to  shoot  against  the  wind. — 
To  it,  boy. —  Marcus,  loose  when  I  bid. — 
Of  my  word,  I  have  written  to  effect ; 
There's  not  a  god  left  unsolicited. 

Marc.   Kinsmen,  shoot  all  your  shafts  into  the  court  . 
We  will  afflict  the  emperor  in  his  pride. 

Tit.  Now,  masters,  draw.  [7Vuy  shoot.]  — 0,\\d\  sakl, 
Lucius!  — 
Good  boy,  in  Virgo's  lap ;  give  it  Pallas. 

A/arc.   My  lord,  I  aim  a  mile  beyond  the  moon  ; 
Your  letter  is  with  Jupiter  by  this. 

/"//.  Ha,  ha  ! 
Publius,  Publius,  what  hast  thou  done? 
See,  see,  thou'st  shot  off  one  of  Taurus'  horns. 

1. 50-  [t.a.so. 


Acf/K]  TITUS  AiVDRONICl/S.  [Scene  I  IT. 

Marc.  This  was  the  sport,  my  lord  :  when  PubHus  shot, 
The  Bull,  being  gall'd,  gave  Aries  such  a  knock 
That  down  fell  both  the  Rani's  horns  in  the  court ; 
And  who  should  tind  them  but  the  empress'  villain  ? 
She  laugh'd,  and  told  the  Moor  he  should  not  choose    "  ' 
But  give  them  to  his  master  for  a  present.  '  * 

Tit.  Why  there  it  goes  :  God  give  his  lordship  joy  ! 

Enter  a  Clown,  with  a  basket,  and  two  pigeons  in  it. 

News,  news  from  heaven  !     Marcus,  the  post  is  come. — 
Sirrah,  what  tidings  }  have  you  any  letters  } 
Shall  I  have  justice  .''  what  says  Jupiter  ? 

Clo.  O,  the  gibbet-maker  .''  he  says  that  he  hath  taken 
them  down  again,  for  the  man  must  not  be  hanged  till 
the  next  week. 

Tit.  But  what  says  Jupiter,  I  ask  thee  ? 

Clo.  Alas,  sir,  I  know  not  Jupiter  ;  I  never  drank  with 
him  in  all  my  life. 

Tit.  Why,  villain,  art  not  thou  the  carrier  ? 

Clo.  Ay,  of  my  pigeons,  sir ;  nothing  else. 

Tit.  Why,  didst  thou  not  come  from  heaven  .'' 

Clo.  From  heaven  !  alas,  sir,  1  never  came  th^re  :  God 
forbid  I  should  be  so  bold  to  press  to  heaven  in  my  young 
days.  Why,  I  am  going  with  my  pigeons  to  the  tribunal 
plebs,  to  take  up  a  matter  of  brawl  betwixt  my  uncle  and 
one  of  the  emperial's  men. 

Marc.  Why,  sir,  that  is  as  fit  as  can  be  to  serve  for 
your  oration ;  and  let  him  deliver  the  pigeons  to  the  em- 
peror from  you. 

Tit.  Tell  me,  can  you  deliver  an  oration  to  the  empernr 
with  a  grace  } 

Clo.  Nay,  truly,  sir,  I  could  never  say  grace  in  all  my 
life. 

Tit.  Sirrah,  come  hither  :  make  no  more  ado, 
But  give  your  pigeons  to  the  emperor  : 
By  me  thou  shalt  have  justice  at  his  hands. 
Hold,  hold  ;  meanwhile  here's  money  for  thy  charges. — 
Give  me  pen  and  ink. — 
Sirrah,  can  you  with  a  grace  deliver  a  supplication  ? 

Clo.  Ay,  sir. 

Tit.  Then  here  is  a  supplication  for  you.  And  when 
you  come  to  him,  at  the  first  approach  you  must  kneel; 
then  kiss  his  foot;  then  deliver  up  your  pigeons;  and 
T.A.51.]  I.  51. 


Act  IK  TlTUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  IV. 

then  look  for  your  reward.     I'll  be  at  hand,  sir,  see  you 
do  it  bravely. 

Clo.  I  warrant  you,  sir,  let  me  alone. 

Tit.  Sirrah,  hast  thou  a  knife  ?  come,  let  me  see  it. — 
Here,  Marcus,  fold  it  in  the  oration  ; 
For  thou  hast  made  it  like  an  humble  suppliant  :  — 
And  when  thou  hast  given  it  to  the  emperor, 
Knock  at  my  door,  and  tell  me  what  he  says. 

Clo.  God  be  with  you,  sir ;  I  wall. 

Tit.  Come,  Marcus,  let  us  go. —  Publius,  follow  me. 

\Exentit. 

Scene  IV.      The  same.     Before  the  palace. 

Enter  Saturninus,  Tamora,  Demetrius,  Chiron, 

Lords,  and  others  ;  Saturninus  with  the  arrows 

in  his  hand  that  TiTUS  shot. 

Sat.  Why,  lords,  what  wrongs  are  these  !  was  ever  seen 
An  emperor  in  Rome  thus  overborne. 
Troubled,  confronted  thus  ;  and,  for  th'  extent 
Of  egal  justice,  us'd  in  such  contempt  .'' 
My  lords,  you  know,  as  do  the  mightful  gods, 
However*these  disturbers  of  our  peace 
Buzz  in  the  people's  ears,  there  naught  hath  pass'd, 
But  even  with  law,  against  the  willful  sons 
Of  old  Andronicus.     And  what  an  if 
His  sorrows  have  so  overwhelm'd  his  wits, — 
Shall  we  be  thus  afflicted  in  his  wreaks. 
His  fits,  his  frenzy,  and  his  bitterness  .'' 
And  now  he  writes  to  heaven  for  his  redress ; 
See,  here's  To  Joi'e,  and  this  To  Mercury  ; 
This  To  Apollo  ;  this  To  the  god  of  war  ;  — 
Sweet  scrolls  to  fly  about  the  streets  of  Rome ! 
What's  this  but  libeling  against  the  senate, 
And  blazoning  our  injustice  every  where  } 
A  goodly  humor,  is  it  not,  my  lords  ? 
As  who  would  say,  in  Rome  no  justice  were. 
But  if  I  live,  his  feigned  ecstasies 
Shall  be  no  shelter  to  these  outrages  : 
But  he  and  his  shall  know  that  justice  lives 
In  Saturninus'  health  ;  whom,  if  she  sleep. 
He'll  so  awake,  as  she  in  fury  shall 
Cut  off  the  proud'st  conspirator  that  lives. 

I.  52.  [t.a,52 


Act/K]  TITUS  ANDRONICVS.  [Scene  I y. 

Tarn.  My  gracious  lord,  my  lovely  Saturnine, 
Lord  of  my  life,  commander  of  my  thoughts, 
Calm  thee,  and  bear  the  faults  of  Titus'  age, 
Th'  effects  of  sorrow  for  his  valiant  sons. 
Whose  loss  hath  pierc'd  him  deep  and  scarr'd  his  heart; 
And  rather  comfort  his  distressed  plight 
Than  prosecute  the  meanest  or  the  best 
For  these  contempts. — [Aside]  Why,  thus  it  shall  become 
High-vvitted  Tamora  to  gloze  with  all : 
But,  Titus,  I  have  touch'd  thee  to  the  quick, 
Thy  life-blood  out  :  if  Aaron  now  be  wise, 
Then  is  all  safe,  the  anchor's  in  the  port. — 

Enter  Clown. 

How  now,  good  fellow  !  wouldst  thou  speak  with  us  ? 

Clo.  Yea,  forsooth,  an  your  mistress-ship  be  emperial. 

Tain.  Empress  I  am,  but  yonder  sits  the. emperor. 

Clo.  'Tis  he. —  God  and  Saint  Stephen  give  you  god- 
den  :  I  have  brought  you  a  letter  and  a  couple  of  pigeons 
here.  [Saturninns  reads  the  letter. 

Sat.  Go,  take  him  away,  and  hang  him  presently. 

Clo.  How  much  money  must  I  have  .' 

Tain.  Come,  sirrah,  you  must  be  hanged. 

Clo.  Hanged  !  by'r  lady,  then  I  have  brought  up  a  neck 
to  a  fair  end.  [E.r it,  guarded. 

Sat.  Despiteful  and  intolerable  wroTigs  ! 
Shall  I  endure  this  monstrous  villainy  } 
I  know  from  whence  this  same  device  proceeds : 
May  this  be  borne, —  as  if  his  traitorous  sons. 
That  died  by  law  for  murder  of  our  brother. 
Have  by  my  means  been  butcher'd  wrongfully.'  — 
Go,  drag  the  villain  hither  by  the  hair; 
Nor  age  nor  honor  shall  shape  privilege  :  — 
For  this  proud  mock  I'll  be  thy  slaughter-man  ; 
Sly  frantic  wretch,  that  holp'st  to  make  me  great. 
In  hope  thyse'lf  should  govern  Rome  and  me. 

Enter  yEMILIUS. 

What  news  with  thee,  v^milius  .-* 

yEmil.  Arm,  arm,  my  lord, —  Rome  never  had   more 
cause  I 
The  Goths  have  gather'd  head  ;  and  with  a  power 
Of  high  resolved  men,  bent  to  the  spoil, 

T.A.S.v]  I.  53.      . 


Act  I  V.I  TI TUS  A  NDRONICUS.  [Scene  1 1' . 

They  hither  march  amain,  under  conduct 
Of  Lucius,  son  to  old  Andronicus  ; 
Who  threats,  in  course  of  his  revenge,  to  do 
As  much  as  ever  Coriolanus  did. 

Sa/.  Is  warlike  Lucius  general  of  the  Goths? 
These  tidings  nip  me  :  and  I  hang  the  head 
As  flowers  with  frost,  or  grass  beat  down  with  storms  : 
Ay,  now  begin  our  sorrows  to  approach  : 
'Tis  he  the  common  people  love  so  much  : 
Myself  hath  often  overheard  them  say  — 
When  I  have  walked  like  a  private  man  — 
That  Lucius'  banishment  was  wrongfully, 
And  they  have  wished  that  Lucius  were  their  emperor. 

Tarn.  Why  should  you  fear?  is  not  your  city  strong? 

Saf.  Ay,  but  the  citizens  favor  Lucius, 
And  will  revolt  from  me  to  succor  him. 

Ta;n.  King,  be  thy  thoughts  imperious,  like  thy  name. 
Is  the  sun  dimm'd,  that  gnats  do  fty  in  it  ? 
The  eagle  suffers  little  birds  to  sing. 
And  is  not  careful  what  they  mean  thereby, 
Knowing  that  with  the  shadow  of  his  wings 
He  can  at  pleasure  stint  their  melody  : 
Even  so  mayst  thou  the  giddy  men  of  Rome. 
Then  cheer  thy  spirit  :  for  know,  thou  emperor, 
I  will  enchant  the  old  Andronicus 
With  words  more  sweet,  and  yet  more  dangerous, 
Than  baits  to  fish,  or  honey-stalks  to  sheep  ; 
Whenas  the  one  is  wounded  with  the  bait, 
The  other  rotted  with  delicious  feed. 

Sa/.  But  he  will  not  entreat  his  son  for  us. 

Taf/i.  If  Tamora  entreat  him,  then  he  will  : 
For  I  can  smooth,  and  fill  his  aged  ear 
With  golden  promises  ;  that,  were  his  heart 
Almost  impregnable,  his  old  ears  deaf, 
Yet  should  both  ear  and  heart  obey  my  tongue. — 
[To  /Eniilius^  Go  thou  before,  be  our  ambassador. 
Say  that  the  emperor  recjuests  a  parley 
Of  warlike  Lucius,  and  appoint  the  meeting 
Even  at  his  father's  house,  the  old  Andronicus. 

Sat.  yEmilius.do  this  message  honorably; 
And  if  he  stand  on  hostage  for  his  safety. 
Bid  him  demand  what  pledge  will  please  him  best. 

Au/ni'l.  Your  bidding  shall  I  do  effectually.  [Exit. 

.  I-  54-  [T.A.54. 


Acty.}  TITUS  ANDRONrCUS.  [Scene  I. 

Tarn.  Now  will  I  to  that  old  Andronicus, 
And  temper  him,  with  all  the  art  I  have. 
To  pluck  proud  Lucius  from  the  warlike  Goths. 
And  now,  sweet  emperor,  be  blithe  again, 
And  bury  all  thy  fear  in  my  devices. 

Sat.  Then  go  successantly,  and  plead  to  him. 

\Exeitnt 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  Plains  near  Rome. 

Enter  LUCIUS,  and  an    army   of  Goths,    with    drums 
and  colors. 

Luc.  Approved  warriors,  and  my  faithful  friends, 
I  have  received  letters  from  great  Rome,  ,.  ^^^^  ^ 

Which  signify  what  hate  they  bear  their  en>peror,  (  i     (, 
And  how  desirous  of  our  sight  they  are. 
Therefore,  great  lords,  be,  as  your  titles  witness. 
Imperious,  and  impatient  of  your  wrongs  ; 
And  wherein  Rome  hath  done  you  any  scathe. 
Let  him  make  treble  satisfaction. 

First  Goth.  Brave  slip,  sprung  from  the  great  Andron- 
icus. 
Whose  name  was  once  our  terror,  now  our  comfort ; 
Whose  high  exploits  and  honorable  deeds 
Ingrateful  Rome  requites  with  foul  contempt. 
Be  bold  in  us:  we'll  follow  where  thou  lead'st, — 
Like  stinging  bees  in  hottest  summer's  day. 
Led  by  their  master  to  the  flowered  fields,^ 
And  be  aveng'd  on  cursed  Tamora. 

Goths.  And  as  he  saith,  so  say  we  all  with  him. 

Luc.  I  humbly  thank  him,  and  I  thank  you  all. — 
But  who  comes  here,  led  by  a  lusty  Goth  } 

Enter  a  Goth,  leading  Aaron  with  his  child  in    his 
arms. 

Sec.  Goth.  Renowned  Lucius,  from  our  troops  I  stray 'd 
To  gaze  upon  a  ruinous  monastery  ; 
And,  as  I  earnestly  did  fix  mine  eye 
Upon  the  wasted  building,  suddenly 
I  heard  a  child  cry  underneath  a  wall. 
I  made  unto  the  noise  ;  when  soon  I  heard 
The  cr)"ing  babe  controU'd  with  this  discourse  ' 

r.A.55.]  I.  55- 


Acty.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  \Scene  1. 

"  Peace,  tawny  slave,  half  me  and  half  thy  dam ! 

Did  not  thy  hue  bewray  whose  brat  thou  art, 

Had  nature  lent  thee  but  thy  mother's  look. 

Villain,  thou  mightst  have  been  an  emperor : 

But  where  the  bull  and  cow  are  both  milk-white, 

They  never  do  beget  a  coal-black  calf. 

Peace,  villain,  peace  !  " — even  thus  he  rates  the  babe, — 

"  For  I  must  bear  thee  to  a  trusty  Goth ; 

Who,  when  he  knows  thou  art  the  empress'  babe. 

Will  hold  thee  dearly  for  thy  mother's  sake." 

With  this,  my  weapon  drawn,  I  rush'd  upon  him, 

Surpris'd  him  suddenly  ;  and  brought  him  hither, 

To  use  as  you  think  needful  to  the  man. 

Luc.  O  worthy  Goth,  this  is  th'  incarnate  devil 
That  robb'd  Andronicus  of  his  good  hand  ; 
This  is  the  pearl  that  pleas'd  your  empress'  eye  ; 
And  here's  the  base  fruit  of  his  burning  lust.— 
Say,  wall-ey'd  slave,  whither  wouldst  thou  convey 
This  growing  image  of  thy  fiend-like  face  ? 
Why  dost  not  speak  ?  what,  deaf  }  not  a  word  ?  — 
A  halter,  soldiers  !  hang  him  on  this  tree. 
And  by  his  side  his  fruit  of  bastardy. 

Aar.  Touch  not  the  boy,—  he  is  of  royal  blood. 

Luc.  Too  like  the  sire  for  ever  being  good. — 
First  hang  the  child,  that  he  may  see  it  sprawl, — 
A  sight  to  vex  the  father's  soul  withal. — 
Get  me  a  ladder. 

\A  ladder  is  brought,  whicJt  Aaron  is  viade 
to  ascend. 

Aar.  Lucius,  save  the  child. 

And  bear  it  from  me  to  the  empress. 
If  thou  do  this,  I'll  show  thee  wondrous  things. 
That  highly  may  advantage  thee  to  hear : 
If  thou  wilt  not,  befall  what  may  befall, 
I'll  speak  no  more  but  —  vengeance  rot  you  all  ! 

Luc.  Say  on  :  and  if  it  please  me  which  thou  speak'st, 
Thy  child  shall  live,  and  I  will  see  it  nourish'd. 

Aar.  An  if  it  please  thee  !  why,  assure  thee,  Lucius, 
'Twill  vex  thy  soul  to  hear  what  I  shall  speak  ; 
For  I  must  talk  of  murders,  rajies,  and  massacres, 
Acts  of  black  night,  abominable  deeds, 
Complots  of  mischief,  treason,  villainies 
Ruthful  to  hear,  yet  piteously  perform 'd  : 

1.  56.  [t.a,56. 


Act  y.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  \,Scene  1 

And  this  shall  be  all  buried  in  my  death, 
Unless  thou  swear  to  me  my  child  shall  live. 

Luc.  Tell  on  thy  mind  ;  I  say  thy  child  shall  live. 

Aar.  Swear  that  he  shall,  and  then  1  will  begin. 

Luc.  Who    should    I    swear   by  ?    thou    believ'st    no 
god  : 
That  granted,  how  canst  thou  Iwlieve  an  oath  .-* 

Aar.  What  if  I  do  not  ?  as,  indeed,  I  do  not ; 
Yet,  for  I  know  thou  art  religious. 
And  hast  a  thing  within  thee  called  conscience. 
With  twenty  popish  tricks  and  ceremonies, 
Which  I  have  seen  thee  careful  to  observe, 
Therefore  I   urge  thy  oath  ;  for  that,  I  know 
An  idiot  holds  his  bauble  for  a  god. 
And  keeps  the  oath  which  by  that  god  he  swears, 
To  that  I'll  urge  him  :  —  therefore  thou  shalt  vow 
By  that  same  god,  what  god  soe'er  it  be, 
That  thou  ador'st  and  hast  in  reverence, — 
To  save  my  boy,  to  nourish  and  bring  him  up  ; 
Or  else  I  will  discover  naught  to  thee. 

Luc.  Even  by  my  gotl  I  swear  to  thee  1  will. 

Aar.  First  know  thou,  I  begot  him  on  the  empress. 

Luc.  O  most  insatiate  and  luxurious  woman  I 

Aar.  Tut,  Lucius,  this  was  but  a  deed  of  charity 
To  that  which  thou  shalt  hear  of  me  anon. 
'Twas  her  two  sons  that  murder'd  Bassianus ; 
They  cut  thy  sister's  tongue,  and  ravisii'd  her. 
And  cut  her  hands,  and  trimm  d  her  as  thou  saw'st. 

Luc.  O  detestable  villain  !  call'st  thou  that  trimming? 

Aar.  Why,  she  was   wash'd,   and    cut,  and   trimm'd: 
and  'twas 
Trim  sport  for  them  that  had  the  doing  of  it. 

Luc.  O  barbarous,  beastly  villains,  like  thyself  ! 

Aar.  Indeed,  I  was  their  tutor  to  instruct  them  : 
That  codding  spirit  had  they  from  their  mother. 
As  sure  a  card  as  ever  won  the  set  ; 
That  Woody  mind,  I  think,  they  learn'd  of  me, 
As  true  a  dog  as  ever  fought  at  head. — 
Well,  let  my  deeds  be  witness  of  my  worth. 
I  train'd  thy  brethren  to  that  guileful  hole, 
Where  the  dead  corpse  of  Bassianus  lay : 
I  wrote  the  letter  that  thy  father  found. 
And  hid  the  gold  within  the  letter  mention'd, 

r.A.57.]  I.  57- 


Act  J'.^  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  {Scene  I. 

Confederate  with  the  queen  and  her  two  sons  : 

And  what  not  done,  that  thou  hast  cause  to  rue, 

Wherein  1  had  no  stroke  of  mischief  in  it  ? 

1  play'd  the  cheater  for  thy  father's  hand  ; 

And,  when  I  had  it,  drew  myself  apart. 

And  almost  broke  my  heart  with  extreme  laughter. 

I  pry'd  me  through  the^revice  of  a  wall 

When,  for  his  hand,  he  had  his  two  sons'  heads  ; 

Beheld  his  tears,  and  laugh 'd  so  heartily. 

That  both  mine  eyes  were  rainy  like  to  his : 

And  when  I  told  the  empress  of  this  sport, 

She  swooned  almost  at  my  pleasing  tale. 

And  for  my  tidings  gave  me  twenty  kisses. 

First  Got/i.  What,  canst  thou  say  all  this,  and  never 
blush  } 

Acxr.  Ay,  like  a  black  dog,  as  the  saying  is. 

Lac.  Art  thou  not  sorry  for  these  heinous  deeds  } 

Aar.  Ay,  that  I  had  not  done  a  thousand  more. 
Even  now  I  curse  the  day  —  and  yet,  I  think, 
Few  come  within  the  compass  of  my  curse  — 
Wherein  I  did  not  some  notorious  ill  : 
As,  kill  a  man,  or  else  devise  his  death  ; 
Ravish  a  maid,  or  plot  the  way  to  do  it ; 
Accuse  some  innocent,  and  forswear  myself; 
Set  deadly  enmity  between  two  friends  ; 
Make  poor  men's  cattle  stray  and  break  their  necks; 
Set  tire  on  barns  and  hay-stacks  in  the  night, 
And  bid  the  owners  quench  them  with  their  tears. 
Oft  have  I  digg'd-up  dead  men  from  their  graves. 
And  set  them  upright  at  their  dear  friends'  doors, 
Even  when  their  sorrow  almost  was  forgot  ; 
And  on  their  skins,  as  on  the  bark  of  trees, 
Have  with  my  knife  carved  in  Roman  letters 
'*  Let  not  your  sorrow  die,  though  I  am  dead," 
Tut,  1  have  done  a  thousand  dreadful  things 
As  willingly  as  one  would  kill  a  t1y  ; 
And  nothing  grieves  me  heartily  indeed, 
But  that  I  cannot  do  ten  thousand  more. 

Lui .  Bring  down  the  devil  ;  for  he  must  not  die 
So  sweet  a  death  as  hanging  presently. 

[Aa>-(>)i  IS  brought  dcnt'n  from  the  ladder, 

Aar.  If  there  be  devils,  would  I  were  a  devil, 
To  live  and  burn  in  everlasting  fire, 

1.58.  tr.A.sS 


Act  r.]  T/TCS  AXDRO.V/CUS.  [Scene  II. 

So  I  might  have  your  company  in  hell. 
But  to  torment  you  with  my  bitter  tongue  ! 

Liic.  Sirs,  stop  his  mouth,  and  le*  him  speak  no  more. 

Enter  a  Goth. 
Third  Goth.  My  lord,  there  is  a  messenger  from  Rome 
Desires  to  be  admitted  to  your  presence. 
Luc.  Let  him  come  near. 

Enter  yEMlLlUS. 

Welcome,  ^milius  :  what's  the  news  from  Rome  } 
/E))iil.  Lord  Lucius,  and  you    princes  of  the  Goths. 

The  Roman  emperor  greets  you  all  by  me  ; 

And,  for  he  understands  you  are  in  arms, 

He  craves  a  parley  at  your  father's  house, 

Willing  you  to  demand  your  hostages. 

And  they  shall  be  immediately  deliver'd. 
Eirst  Goth.  What  says  our  general .'' 
Luc.  ytmilius,  let  the  emperor  give  his  pledges 

Unto  my  father  and  my  uncle  Marcus, 

And  we  will  come. —  March,  away  !    {Flourish.  Exeunt. 

Scene  IL  Rome.  Before  TiTUS's  house. 
Enter  Tamora,  DEMETRIUS,  ana  Chiron,  disguised. 

Tani.  Thus,  in  this  strange  and  sad  habiliment, 
I  will  encounter  with  Andronicus. 
And  say  I  am  Revenge,  sent  froin  below 
To  join  with  him  and  right  his  heinous  wrongs. 
Knock  at  his  study,  where,  they  say,  he  keeps. 
To  ruminate  strange  plots  of  dire  revenge  ; 
Tell  him  Revenge  is  come  to  join  with  him. 
And  work  confusion  on  his  enemies.  [  They  knock. 

Enter  TiTUS,  abo7'e. 

Tit.  Who  doth  molest  my  contemplation? 
Is  it  your  trick  to  make  me  ope  the  door. 
That  so  my  sad  decrees  may  fly  away. 
And  all  my  study  be  to  no  effect  .'' 
You  are  deceiv'd  :  for  what  I  mean  to  do 
See  here  in  bloody  lin^s  I  have  set  down  ; 
And  what  is  written  shall  be  executed. 

Tarn.  Titus,  I  now  am  come  to  talk  with  thee. 

Tit.  No,  not  a  word  :  how  can  I  grace  my  talk, 
T.A.59.]  I.  sg. 


>^/r.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  If. 

Wanting  a  hand  to  give  it  action  ? 

Thou  hast  the  odds  of  me  ;  therefore  no  more. 

Tarn.  If  thou  didst  know  me,  thou  wouldst  talk  with 
me. 

ZiV.  I  am  not  mad  ;  I  know  thee  well  enough  ; 
Witness  this  wretched  stump,  witness  these  crimson  lines ; 
Witness  these  trenches  made  by  grief  and  care ; 
Witness  the  tiring  day  and  heavy  night  ; 
Witness  all  sorrow,  that  I  know  thee  well 
For  our  proud  empress,  mighty  Tamora  : 
Is  not  thy  coming  for  my  other  hand  ? 

Tain.  Know,  thou  sad  man,  I  am  not  Tamora ; 
She  is  thy  enemy,  and  I  thy  friend  : 
I  am  Revenge ;  sent  from  th'  infernal  kingdom, 
To  ease  the  gnawing  vulture  of  thy  mind. 
By  working  wreakful  vengeance  on  thy  foes. 
Come  down,  and  welcome  me  to  this  world's  light  ; 
Confer  with  me  of  murder  and  of  death  : 
There's  not  a  hollow  cave  or  lurking-place. 
No  vast  obscurity  or  misty  vale. 
Where  bloody  murder  or  detested  rape 
Can  couch  for  fear,  but  I  will  find  them  out ; 
And  in  their  ears  tell  them  my  dreadful  name, — 
Revenge, —  which  makes  the  foul  offenders  quake. 

Tit.  Art  thou  Revenge  ?  and  art  thou  sent  to  me, 
To  be  a  torment  to  mine  enemies  .'* 

Tain.  I  am  ;  therefore  come  down,  and  welcome  me. 

Tit.   Do  me  some  service,  ere  I  come  to  thee. 
Lo,  by  thy  side  where  Rape  and  Murder  stand  ; 
Now  give  some  surance  that  thou  art  Revenge, — ■ 
Stab  them,  or  tear  them  on  thy  chariot-wheels  ; 
And  then  I'll  come  and  be  thy  wagoner. 
And  whirl  along  with  thee  about  the  globe. 
Provide  two  proper  palfreys,  black  as  jet. 
To  hale  thy  vengeful  wagon  swift  away, 
And  find  out  murderers  in  their  guilty  caves  : 
And  when  thy  car  is  loaden  with  their  heads, 
I  will  dismount,  and  by  the  wagon-wheel 
Trot,  like  a  servile  footman,  all  day  long, 
Even  from  Hyperion's  rising  in  tlie  east 
Until  his  very  downfall  in  the  sea  : 
And  day  by  day  I'll  do  this  heavy  tnsk, 
So  thou  destroy  Rapine  and  Murder  there. 

I.  60.  (t.a.6o> 


let  r.J  •  TITCS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scent//. 

Tarn,  These  are  my  ministers,  and  come  with  me. 

Tit.  Are  these  thy  ministers?  what  are  they  call'd? 

Tarn.    Rapine  and  Murder;  therefore  called  so, 
'Cause  they  take  vengeance  of  such  kind  of  men. 

Tit.  Good  Lord,  how  like  the  empress'  sons  they  are  ! 
And  you,  the  impress !  but  we  worldly  men 
Have  miserable,  mad-mistaking  eyes. 

0  sweet  Revenge,  now  do  I  come  to  thee ; 

And,  if  one  arm's  embracement  will  content  thee, 

1  will  embrace  thee  in  it  by  and  by.  [Exit  above. 

Tarn.  This  closing  with  him  fits  his  lunacy  : 
Whate'er  I  forge  to  feed  his  brain-sick  fits. 
Do  you  uphold  and  maintain  in  your  speeches, 
For  now  he  firmly  takes  me  for  Revenge  ; 
And,  being  credulous  in  this  mad  thought, 
I'll  make  him  send  for  Lucius  his  son  ; 
And,  whilst  I  at  a  banquet  hold  him  sure, 
I'll  find  some  cunning  practice  out  of  hand, 
To  scatter  and  disperse  the  giddy  Goths, 
Or,  at  the  least,  make  them  his  enemies. — 
See,  here  he  comes,  and  I  must  ply  my  theme. 

Enter  TiTUS,  belcnii. 

Tit.  Long  have  I  been  forlorn,  and  all  for  thee : 
■Welcome,  dread  Fury,  to  my  woful  house  :  — 
Rapine  and  Murder,  you  are  welcomie  too  :  — 
How  like  the  empress  and  her  sons  you  are  ! 
■Well  are  you  fitted,  had  you  but  a  Moor  :  — 
Could  not  all  hell  afford  you  such  a  devil  ?  — 
For  well  I  wot  the  empress  never  wags 
But  in  her  company  there  is  a  Moor  ; 
And,  would  you  represent  our  queen  aright, 
It  were  convenient  you  had  such  a  de\'il  : 
But  welcome,  as  you  are.     What  shall  we  do? 

Tarn.  What  wouldst  thou  have  us  do,  Andronicus  ? 

Dem.  Show  me  a  murderer.  I'll  deal  with  him. 

Chi.  Show  me  a  villain  that  hath  done  a  rape. 
And  I  am  sent  to  be  reveng'd  on  him. 

Tarn.  Show    me    a    thousand    that    have    done   thee 
wrong. 
And  I  will  be  revenged  on  them  all. 

Tit.  Look  round  about  the  wicked  streets  of  Rome ; 
And  when  thou  find'st  a  man  that's  like  thyself. 

T.A.61.3  1. 6». 


Aci  r.]  TITUS  ANDKONICUS.  '  [Scene'll. 

Good  Murder,  stab  him  ;  he's  a  murderen-^i'^T  .vnt!\ 
Go  thou  with  him  ;  and  when  it  is  thy  hap''  '""A  A»T 
To  tnid  another  that  is  hke  to  thee,  ^'^      vxik\ 

Good  Rapine,  stab  him  ;  he's  a  ravisher. —  ■    ''•f^'  9S0AJ 
Go  thou  with  them  ;  and  in  the  emperor's  court'  ■^*'^ 
There  is  a  queen,  attended  by  a  Moor;  -^7  f>flA 

Well  mayst  thou  know  her  by  thy  own  proportion,  ^''tH 
For  up  and  down  she  doth  resemble  thee  :  '■  e  O 

I  pray  thee,  do  on  them  some  violent  death>;  5iio  h  ,bnA 
They  have  been  violent  to  me  and  mine.     -  'Ri'lro^  Hr"  I 

Tain.  Well  hast  thou  lesson'd  us  ;  this  shall  we  do. 
But  would  it  please  thee,  good  Andronicus, 
To  send  for  Lucius,  thy  thrice-valiant  son,  cU 

Who  leads  towards  Rome  a  band  of  warlike  Gothaj  10'+ 
And  bid  him  come  and  banquet  at  thy  house  ;  ■in  .bnA 
When  he  is  here,  even  at  thy  solemn  feast,  fAtw  11' I 
I  will  bring  in  the  empress  and  her  sons,  <  i-'uHw  ,bnA 
The  emperor  himself,  and  all  thy  foes  ;  "irio?  bnrt  ll'l 
And  at  thy  mercy  shall  they  stoop  and  kneeh  '■-««' ^»-oT 
And  on  them  shall  thou  ease  thy  angry  heart.  fc  .lO 

What  says  Andronicus  to  this  device  }  '^''- 

Tti.  Marcus,  my  brother  !  'tis  sad  Titus  calls. 

Enter  Marcus.  \   \'\ 

Go,  gentle  Marcus,  to  thy  nephew  Lucius  ;  "^rnoDlsW 
Thou  shalt  inquire  him  out  among  the  Goths  :  <.  sniqAli 
Bid  him  repair  to  me,  and  bring  with  him  '•jit'  '^roH 

Some  of  the  chiefest  princes  of  the  Goths;  "    '' 

Bid  him  encamp  his  soldiers  where  they  are : 
Tell  him  the  emperor  and  the  empress  too  \\n-n  ^o'\. 

Feast  at  my  house,  and  he  shall  feast  with  theiwl  nr  U'8 
This  do  thou  for  my  love;  and  so  let  him,  •■o-**  .boA 
As  he  regards  his  aged  father's  life.  •  ^>^^<^*^  1I 

Marc.  This  will  I  do,  and  soon  return  again.       \^EMt. 

Tarn.  Now  will  I  hence  about  thy  business, 
And  take  my  ministers  along  with  me.  ^^ 

Tit.  Nay,  nay,  let  Rape  and  Murder  stay  with  me'! 
Or  else  Lll  call  my  brother  back  again,        ,..„;■-«* 
•  And  cleave  to  no  revenge  but  Lucius.         'onr    t*'' 

Tain,  [aside  to  Dein.  aiitf  C  'hi.  \  W.h.at«ay  you,  boys  .' 
will  you  abide  with  himi'i  '-^t  ^iJ  \\\h  I  bnA 
Whiles  I  go  tell  my  lord  the  emperor        n  >looj  .V»T 
How  I  have  govern 'd  our  determin'd  jestpfi)  n^Hw  bnA 

1.  t2.  •^.«l.t52, 


Act  y.]  TTTrS  ANDRONrcn;.  [Scene  I/. 

Yield  to  his  humor,  smooth  and  speal<  him  fair, 
And  tarry  with  him  till  I  turn  again. 

J'z't.  [/rszWf]  I  know  them  all,  though  they  suppose  me 
mad. 
And  will  o't-r-reach  them  in  their  own  devices, 
A  pair  of  cursed  hell-hounds  and  their  dam. 

l)c/>/.  [astfle  to    T(if/i.]    Madam,    depart    at    pleasure; 
leave  us  here. 

Ta//i.  Farewell,  Andronicus  :  Revenge  now  goes 
To  lay  acomplot  to  betray  thy  foes. 

T/t.  I  know  thou  dost ;  and,  sweet   Revenge,  farewell. 

[Ex 2/  Tamora. 

Chi.  Tell  us,  old  man,  how  shall  we  be  employ 'd  ? 

Tit.  Tut,  I  have  work  enough  for  you  to  do. — 
Publius,  come  hither,  Caius,  and  \'alentine  ! 

Enter  PUBLIUS,  Caius,  and  VALENTINE. 

Pub.  What  is  your  will  ? 

Tit.  Know  you  these  two  } 

Pub.  The  empress'  sons, 
I  take  them,  Chiron  and  Demetrius. 

Tit.  Fie,  Publius,  fie !  thou  art  too  much  deceiv'd, —  . 
The  one  is  Murder,  Rape  is  th'  other's  name  ;  ^ 

And  therefore  bind  them,  gentle  Publius  :  — 
Cams  and  Valentine,  lay  hands  on  them  :  — 
Oft  have  you  heard  me  wish  for  such  an  hour. 
And  now  I  find  it ;  therefore  bind  them  sure  ; 
And  stop  their  mouths,  if  they  begin  to  cry.  [Exit. 

[Publius,  &^c.,Iay  hold  on  Chiron  and  DemetriiA. 

Chi.  Villains,  forbear !  we  are  the  empress'  sons. 

Pub.  And  therefore  do  we  what  we  are  commanded. — 
Stop  close  their  mouths,  let  them  not  speak  a  word. 
Is  he  sure  bound  ?  look  that  you  bind  them  fast. 

Re-enter  TiTUS,  with   Lavinia  ;  he  bearing  a  kni/e, 

,  .     \'  '  and  she  a  basin. 

•  7!?'/.  Come,  come,  Lavinia  ;  look,  thy  foes  are  bound. — 
Sirs,  stop  their  mouths,  let  them  not  speak  to  me  ; 
But  let  them  hear  what  fearful  words  I  utter. — 
O  villains,  Chiron  and  Demetrius  I 

Here  stands  the  spring  whom  you  have  stain'd  with  mud; 
This  goodly  summer  with  your  winter  mix'd. 
You  kill'd  her  husband  ;  and  for  that  vile  fault 

T.A.63.]  I.  6:i. 


Ac/ r.}  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  111. 

Two  of  her  brothers  were  condemn 'd  to  death. 

My  hand  cut  off,  and  made  a  merry  jest ; 

Both  her  sweet  hands,  her  tongue,  and  that  more  dear 

Than  hands  or  tongue,  her  spotless  chastity, 

Inhuman  traitors,  you  constrain'd  and  forc'd. 

What  would  you  say,  if  I  should  let  you  speak? 

Villains,  for  shame  you  could  not  beg  for  grace. 

Hark,  wretches  !  how  I  mean  to  martyr  you. 

This  one  hand  yet  is  left  to  cut  your  throats. 

Whilst  that  Lavinia  'tween  her  stumps  doth  hold 

The  basin  that  receives  your  guilty  blood. 

You  know  your  mother  means  to  feast  with  me. 

And  calls  herself  Revenge,  and  thinks  me  mad  :  — 

Hark,  villains  !  I  will  grind  your  bones  to  dust. 

And  with  your  blood  and  it  I'll  make  a  paste ; 

And  of  the  paste  a  coffin  I  will  rear, 

And  make  two  pasties  of  your  shameful  heads  ; 

And  bid  that  strumpet,  your  unhallow'd  dam, 

Like  to  the  earth,  swallow  her  own  increase. 

This  is  the  feast  that  I  have  bid  her  to, 

And  this  the  banquet  she  shall  surfeit  on ; 

For  worse  than  Philomel  you  us'd  my  daughter, 

And  worse  than  Progne  I  will  be  reveng'd  : 

And  now  prepare  your  throats. —  Lavinia,  come, 

\He  cuts  their  throats. 
Receive  the  blood  :  and  when  that  they  are  dead, 
Let  me  go  grind  their  bones  to  powder  small, 
And  with  this  hateful  liquor  temper  it  ; 
And  in  that  paste  let  their  vile  heads  be  bak'd. 
Come,  come,  be  every  one  officious 
To  make  this  banquet ;  which  I  wish  may  prove 
More  stern  and  bloody  than  the  Centaurs'  feast. 
So:  — 

Now  bring  them  in,  for  I  will  play  the  cook. 
And  see  them  ready  "gainst  their  mother  comes. 

[Ext'unt.  bearing  the  dead  bodies. 

Scene  III.    Court  of  Titus's  house:  tables  set  out. 

Enter   LUCIUS,    MARCUS,    and    Goths,   with    AaRON, 
prisoner,  and  his  Child  in  the  arms  of  an  Attend- 
ant;  other  Attendants. 
Luc.  Uncle  Marcus,  since  it  is  my  father's  mind 
That  I  repair  to  Rome,  I  am  content. 

1. 64.  [T.A.64 


A<rt  1^.]  TITUS  ANDRO^rrCUS.  {Scene  HI. 

First  Goth.  And  ours  with  thine,  befall   what  fortune 
will. 

Luc.  Good  uncle,  take  you  in  this  barbarous  Moor, 
This  ravenous  tiger,  this  accursed  devil  ; 
Let  him  receive  no  sustenance,  fetter  him, 
Till  he  be  brought  unto  the  empress'  face 
For  testimony  of  her  foul  proceedings  : 
And  see  the  ambush  of  our  friends  be  strong; 
1  fear  the  emperor  means  no  good  to  us. 

Aar.  Some  devil  whisper  curses  in  mine  ear. 
And  prompt  me  that  my  tongue  may  utter  forth 
The  venomous  malice  of  my  swelling  heart  ! 

Luc.  Away  inhuman  dog  !  unhallow'd  slave! — ■ 
Sirs,  help  our  uncle  to  convey  him  in. 

[Exeunt  sovie  Goths,  with  Aaron.    Flourish  within. 
The  trumpets  show  the  emperor  is  at  hand. 

Enter  Saturninus  rtWrt' Tamora,  with  /Emilius, 
Tribunes,  Senators,  and  others. 

Sat.  What,  hath  the  firmament  more  suns  than  one  ? 

Luc.  What  boots  it  thee  to  call  thyself  a  sun  } 
■  A/arc.  Rome's  emperor,  and  nephew,  break  the  parle  ; 
These  quarrels  must  be  quietly  debated. 
The  feast  is  ready,  which  the  careful  Titus 
Hath  ordain'd  to  an  honorable  end, 
For  peace,  for  love,  for  league,  and  good  to  Rome  : 
Please  you,  therefore,  draw  nigh,  and  take  your  places. 

Sat.  Marcus,  we  will. 

[Hautboys  sound.    The  Conipa>iy  sit  down  at  table. 
Enter   Titus   dressed  like    a    Cook,    Lavinia    veiled. 
Young  Lucius,  and  others.    Tirvs  places  the 
dishes  on  the  table. 

Tit.    Welcome,   my   gracious   lord  ;    welcome,    dread 
queen  ; 
Welcome,  ye  warlike  Goths  ;  welcome,  Lucius  ; 
And  welcome,  all :  although  the  cheer  be  poor, 
"Twill  fill  your  stomachs ;  please  you  eat  of  it. 

Sat.  Why  art  thou  thus  attir'd,  Andronicus.-* 

Tit.  Because  I  would  be  sure  to  have  all  well, 
To  entertain  your  highness  and  your  empress. 

Tarn.  We  are  beholding  to  you.  good  Andronicus. 

Tit.  An  if  your  highness  knew  my  heart,  you  were. — • 
My  lord  the  emperor,  resolve  me  this  : 

».A.65.]  1. 6s. 


Aci  y.]  TITUS  ANDROXICUS.  [Scfne  HI. 

Was  it  well  done  of  rash  Virginius 
To  slay  his  daughter  with  his  own  right  hand, 
Because  she  was  enforc'd,  stain'd,  and  deflour'd? 
Sat.  It  was,  Andronicus. 
TiL  Your  reason,  mighty  lord  ? 
Sat.  Because  the  girl  should  not  survive  her  shame. 
And  by  her  presence  still  renew  his  sorrows. 

Tzt.  A  reason  mighty,  strong,  and  effectual ; 
A  pattern,  precedent,  and  lively  warrant, 
For  me,  most  wretched,  to  perform  the  like  : — • 
Die,  die,  Lavinia,  and  thy  shame  with  thee  ; 

[Kills  Lavinia, 
And  with  thy  shame  thy  father's  sorrow  die  ! 

Sat.  What  hast  thou  done,  unnatural  and  unkind  ? 
Tit.  Kill'd  her,  for  whom  my  tears  have  made  me  blind. 
I  am  as  woful  as  Virginius  was. 
And  have  a  thousand  times  more  cause  than  he 
To  do  this  outrage  ;  — and  it  now  is  done. 

Sat.  What,  was  she  ravish 'd  ?  tell  who  did  the  deed  ? 
Tit.  Will't  please  you  eat  }  will't  please  your  highness 

feed  ? 
Tarn.  Why  hast  thou  slain  thine  only  daughter  thus  } 
Tit.  Not  1  ;  'twas  Chiron  and  Demetrius : 
They  ravish 'd  her,  and  cut  away  her  tongue  ; 
And  they,  'twas  they,  that  did  her  all  this  wrong. 
Sat.  Go  fetch  them  hither  to  us  presently. 
Tit.  Why,  there  they  are  both,  baked  in  that  pie ; 
Whereof  their  mother  daintily  hath  fed, 
Eating  the  flesh  that  she  herself  hath  bred. 
'Tis  true,  'tis  true  ;  witness  my  knife's  sharp  point. 

[Kills  T a  mora. 
Sat.  Die,  frantic  wretch,  for  this  accursed  deed  ! 

[Kills  Titus. 
Luc.  Can  the  son's  eye  behold  his  father  bleed  } 
There's  meed  for  meed,  death  for  a  deadly  deed  ! 

[Kills   Saturninus.     A   great   tumult.     Lucius, 
Marcus,  and  their  Partisans  go  up  into  a 

gallery. 

Marc.  You  sad-fac'd  men,  people  and  sons  of  Rome, 
By  uproar  sever'd,  like  a  flight  of  fowl 
Scatter'd  by  winds  and  high  tempestuous  gusts, 
O,  let  me  teach  you  how  to  knit  again 

1. 66.  [T.A.6t. 


Aetl^.}  riTUS  ANDRONfCUS.  [Scene  11/. 

This  scatter'd  corn  into  one  mutual  sheaf. 

These  broken  limbs  again  into  one  body; 

Lest  Rome  herself  be  bane  unto  herself. 

And  she  whom  mighty  kingdoms  court 'sy  to. 

Like  a  forlorn  and  desperate  castaway, 

Do  shameful  execution  on  herself. 

But  if  my  frosty  signs  and  chaps  of  age, 

Grave  witnesses  of  true  experience, 

Cannot  induce  you  to  attend  my  words, — 

{To   Lucitis]  Speak,   Rome's   dear   friend:  as   erst    out 

ancestor, 
When  with  his  solemn  tongue  he  did  discourse 
To  love-sick  Dido's  sad-attending  ear 
The  story  of  that  baleful-burning  night 
When  subtle  Greeks  surpris'd  King  Priam's  Troy,— 
Tell  us  what  Sinon  hath  bewitch'd  our  ears, 
Or  who  hath  brought  the  fatal  engine  in 
That  gives  our  Troy,  our  Rome,  the  civil  wound. — 
My  heart  is  not  compact  of  flint  nor  steel : 
Nor  can  I  utter  all  our  bitter  grief, 
But  floods  of  tears  will  drown  my  orator)', 
And  break  my  utterance,  even  in  the  time 
When  it  should  move  you  to  attend  me  most. 
Lending  your  kind  commiseration. 
Here  is  our  captain,  let  him  tell  the  tale; 
Your  hearts  will  throb  and  weep  to  hear  him  speak. 

Luc.  Then,  noble  auditory,  be  it  known  to  you 
That  cursed  Chiron  and  Demetrius 
Were  they  that  murdered  our  emperor's  brother ; 
\nd  they  it  were  that  ravished  our  sister  : 
For  their  fell  fault  our  brothers  were  beheaded ; 
Our  father's  tears  despis'd,  and  basely  cozen'd 
Of  that  true  hand  that  fought  Rome's  quarrel  out, 
And  sent  her  enemies  unto  the  grave. 
Lastly,  myself  unkindly  banished, 
The  gates  shut  on  me,  and  turn'd  weeping  out, 
To  beg  relief  among  Rome's  enemies ; 
Who  drown'd  their  enmity  in  my  true  tears. 
And  op'd  their  arms  t'  embrace  me  as  a  friend: 
I  am  the  turn'd  forth,  be  it  known  to  you, 
That  have  preserv'd  her  welfare  in  my  blood ; 
And  from  her  bosom  took  the  enemy's  point. 
Sheathing  the  steel  in  my  adventurous  body, 

T.A.67.]  1. 67. 


Aei  y.]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS.  [Scene  III. 

Alas,  you  know  I  am  no  vaunter,  I  ; 

My  scars  can  witness,  dumb  although  they  are, 

That  my  report  is  just  and  full  of  truth. 

But,  soft !  methinks  I  do  digress  too  much. 

Citing  mv  worthless  praise  :  O,  pardon  me  ; 

For  when  no  friends  are  by,  men  praise  themselves. 

Marc.    Now    is    my     turn    to    speak.       Behold    this 

child.— 
\Poinfing  to  the  Child  in  the  arms  of  an  Attendant, 
Of  this  was  Tamora  delivered  ; 
The  issue  of  an  irreligious  Moor, 
Chief  architect  and  plotter  of  these  woes  : 
The  villain  is  alive  in  Titus'  house, 
Damn'd  as  he  is,  to  witness  this  is  true. 
Now  judge  what  cause  had  Titus  to  revenge 
These  wrongs,  unspeakable,  past  patience, 
Or  more  than  any  living  man  could  bear. 
Now  you  have  heard  the  truth,  what  say  you.  Romans  } 
Have  we  done  aught  amiss, —  show  us  wherein. 
And,  from  the  place  where  you  behold  us  now, 
The  poor  remainder  of  Andronici 
Will,  hand  in  hand,  all  headlong  cast  us  down, 
And  on  the  ragged  stones  beat  forth  our  brains, 
And  make  a  mutual  closure  of  our  house. 
Speak,  Romans,  speak  ;  and  if  you  say  we  shall, 
Lo,  hand  in  hand,  Lucius  and  I  will  fall. 

yEmil.  Come,  come,  thou  reverend  man  of  Rome, 
And  bring  our  emperor  gently  in  thy  hand, 
Lucius  our  emperor  ;  for  well  I  know 
The  common  voice  do  cry  it  shall  be  so. 

Romans.  Lucius,  all  hail,  Rome's  royal  emperor ! 

Marc,  [to  Attendants]  Go,  go  into  old  Titus'  sorrow- 
ful house, 
And  hither  hale  that  misbelieving  Moor, 
To  be  adjudg'd  some  direful-slaughtering  death. 
As  punishment  for  his  most  wicked  life. 

\Exeufit  some  Attendants, 

Lucius,  Marcus,  &c.,  descend. 

Romans.  Lucius,  all  hail,  Rome's  gracious  governor! 

Luc.  Thanks,  gentle  Romans  :  may  I  govern  so, 
To  heal  Rome's  harms,  and  wipe  away  her  woe  ! 
But,  gentle  people,  give  me  aim  awhile, — 

I.  68.  [t.a.<8. 


Act  K]  TITUS  AA'DRONICUS.  iScene  III. 

For  nature  puts  me  to  a  heavy  task  :  — 
Stand  all  aloof ;  —  but,  uncle,  draw  you  near, 
To  shed  obsequious  tears  upon  this  trunk. — 
O,  take  this  warm  kiss  on  thy  pale  cold  lips, 

[^Kissing   Titus. 
These  sorrowful  drops  upon  thy  blood-stain'd  face, 
The  last  true  duties  of  thy  noble  son  ! 

Marc.  Tear  for  tear,  and  loving  kiss  for  kiss, 
Thy  brother  Marcus  tenders  on  thy  lips  : 
O,  were  the  sum  of  these  that  I  should  pay 
Countless  and  infinite,  yet  would  I  pay  them  ! 

Luc.  Come  hither,  boy;  come,  come,  and  learn  of  us 
To  melt  in  showers  :  thy  grandsire  lov'd  thee  well  : 
Many  a  time  he  danc'd  thee  on  his  knee, 
Sung  thee  asleep,  his  loving  breast  thy  pillow  ; 
Many  a  matter  hath  he  told  to  thee, 
Meet  and  agreeing  with  thine  infancy ; 
In  that  respect,  then,  like  a  loving  child. 
Shed  yet  some  small  drops  from  thy  tender  spring. 
Because  kind  nature  doth  require  it  so  : 
Friends  should  associate  friends  in  grief  and  woe  : 
Bid  him  farewell ;  commit  him  to  the  grave ; 
Do  him  that  kindness,  and  take  leave  of  him. 

Young  Luc.  O  grandsire,  grandsire !  even  with  all  my 
heart 
Would  I  were  dead,  so  you  did  live  again  !  — 

0  Lord,  I  cannot  speak  to  him  for  weeping; 
My  tears  will  choke  me,  if  I  ope  my  mouth. 

Re-enter  Attendants  with  Aaron. 

y£"/«/7.  You  sad  Andronici,  have  done  with  woes: 
Give  sentence  on  this  execrable  wretch, 
That  hath  been  breeder  of  these  dire  events. 

Luc.  Set  him  breast-deep  in  earth,  and  famish  him ; 
There  let  him  stand,  and  rave,  and  cry  for  food  : 
If  any  one  relieves  or  pities  him. 
For  the  offense  he  dies.     This  is  our  doom : 
Some  stay  to  see  him  fasten 'd  in  the  earth. 

Aar.  O,  why  should  wrath  be  mute,  and  fury  dumb? 

1  am  no  baby,  I,  that  with  base  prayers 
I  should  repent  the  evils  I  have  done  : 
Ten  thousand  worse  than  ever  yet  I  did 
Would  I  perform,  if  I  might  have  my  will : 

T.A.6(J.]  ».  6<J. 


Ac/ K]  TITUS  ANDRONICUS,  {Scene  III. 

If  one  good  deed  in  all  my  life  I  did, 
1  do  repent  it  from  my  very  soul. 

Luc.  Some  loving  friends  convey  the  emperor  hence, 
And  give  him  burial  in  his  father's  grave : 
My  father  and  Lavinia  shall  forthwith 
Be  closed  in  our  household's  monument. 
As  for  that  heinous  tiger,  Tamora, 
No  funeral  rite,  nor  man  in  mourning  weeds, 
No  mournful  bell  shall  ring  her  burial ; 
But  throw  her  forth  to  beasts  and  birds  of  prey  : 
Her  life  was  beast-like,  and  devoid  of  pity  ; 
And,  being  so,  shall  have  like  want  of  pity. 
See  justice  done  on  Aaron,  that  damn'd  Moor, 
By  whom  our  heavy  haps  had  their  beginning  : 
Then,  afterwards,  to  order  well  the  state. 
That  like  events  may  ne'er  it  ruinate.  [Exeunt. 


I   *  lT.A.7g. 


THE  FIRST  PART 


KING  HENRY  THE  SIXTH, 


DRAMATIS 

King  Henry  the  Sixth. 
Duke  of  Glostkr,   uncle  to 

the  King,  and  protector. 
Duke  of  Bedfurd,  uncle  to 

the     King,    and    regent    of 

France. 


PERSONS. 

Woodville.   lieutenant  of  the 

Tower. 
Vkrnon,  of  tiie  White  Rose  or 

York  faction. 
Ba-^set.   of    the   Red- Rose  or 

Lancaster  faction. 


Thomas   Beaufort,   duke   of  A  Lawyer.  — Mortimer's  Keep 
Exeter,    great  uncle    to    the 
King. 

Henry  Beaufort,  great-uncle 
to  the  King,  bishop  of  Win- 
chester, and  afterwards  car- 
dinal. 

John  Beaufort,  earl  of  Som- 
erset, afterwards  duke. 

Richard  Plantagenet,  son 
of  Richard  late  earl  of  Cam 
bridge,  afterwards  duke  of 
York. 

Earl  of  Warwick. 

Earl  of  Salisbury. 

Earl  of  Suffolk. 

Lord  Talbot,  afterwards  earl 
of  Shrewsbury. 

John  Talbot,  his  son. 

Edward  Mortimer,  earl  of 
March. 

Sir  John  Fastolfe. 

Sir  William  Lucy. 

Sir  William  Glansdale. 

Sir  Thomas  Gargrave. 

Mayor  of  London. 


Charles,  Dauphin,  and  after- 
wards king,  of  France. 

Reignier,  duke  of  Anjou,  and 
titular  king  of  Naples. 

Duke  of  Burgundy. 

Duke  of  Alencon. 

Hast  xrd  of  Ori  fans 

Governor  of  Paris. 

Master-Gunner  of  Orleans,  and 
his  Son. 

General  of  the  French  forces  in 
Bourdeaux. 

A  French  Sergeant. 

An    old    vShepherd, 
Joan  la  I'ucelle. 


1 


A  Porter, 
father    to 


Margaret,  daughter  to  Reig- 
nier, afterwards  married    to 
King  Henry. 
Countess  of  Auvergne. 
Joan  la  Pucelle,  commonly 
called  Joan  of  Arc. 
Lords,    Warders  of   the   Tower,    Heralds,    Officers,    Soldiers, 
Messengers,   and  several   Attendants   both    on    the 
English  and  French. 
Fiends  appearing  to  La  Pucelle. 
Scene  —  Partly  in  England  and  partly  in  Fran: 

K.H.Vl.3.]  I.  73. 


Aci/.'i  THE  FIRS  T  PA  K  T  OF  {Seem  I. 

ACT  I. 
Scene  I.    Westminster  Abbey. 
Dead  march.      The  corpse  of  King  Henry  the  Fifth,  in 
state,  is  brought  in,  attended  on  by  the  Dukes  of 
Bedford,    Gloster,    and   Exeter,    the 
Earl  of  Warwick,  the  Bishop  of  Win- 
chester, Heralds,  &^c. 
Bed.  Hung  be  the  heavens  with  black,  yield  day  to 
night  ! 
Comets,  importing  change  of  time  and  states, 
Brandish  your  crystal  tresses  in  the  sky. 
And  with  them  scourge  the  bad  revolting  stars 
That  have  consented  unto  Henry's  death  ! 
Henry  the  Fifth,  too  famous  to  live  long  ! 
England  ne'er  lost  a  king  of  so  much  worth. 

Glo.  England  ne'er  had  a  king  until  his  time. 
Virtue  he  had,  deserving  to  command  : 
His  brandish'd  sword  did  blind  men  with  his  beams; 
His  arms  spread  wider  than  a  dragon's  wings ; 
His  sparkling  eyes,  replete  with  wrathful  fire, 
More  dazzled  and  drove  back  his  enemies 
Than  mid-day  sun  fierce  bent  against  their  faces. 
What  should  I  say  ?  his  deeds  exceed  all  speech  : 
He  ne'er  lift  up  his  hand,  but  conquered. 

Exe.  We  mourn  in  black  :  why  mourn  we  not  in  blood  } 
Henry  is  dead,  and  never  shall  revive  : 
Upon  a  wooden  coffin  we  attend  ;  ' 
And  death's  dishonorable  victory 
We  with  our  stately  presence  glorify. 
Like  captives  bound  to  a  triumphant  car. 
What !  shall  we  curse  the  planets  of  mishap 
That  plotted  thus  our  glory's  overthrow  } 
Or  shall  we  think  the  subtle-witted  French 
Conjurers  and  sorcerers,  that,  afraid  of  him. 
By  magic  verses  have  contriv'd  his  end  ? 

Win.  He  was  a  king  bless'd  of  the  King  of  kings. 
Unto  the  I-'rench  the  dreadful  judgment-day 
So  dreadful  will  not  be  as  was  his  sight. 
The  battles  of  the  Lord  of  hosts  he  fought : 
The  church's  prayers  made  him  so  prosperous. 

Glo.  The   church  I  where  is  it  ?  Had  not  churchmen 
pray'd 

1. 74.  [K.H.V1.4. 


Aet  /.I  /C/NG  HENKV  VI.  [Scene  A 

His  thread  of  life  had  not  so  soon  decay 'd : 
None  do  you  like  but  an  effeminate  prince, 
Whom,  like  a  schoolboy,  you  may  over-awe. 

Win.  Gloster,  whate'er  we  like,  thou  art  protector, 
And  lookest  to  command  the  prince  and  realm. 
Thy  wife  is  proud  ;  she  holdeth  thee  in  awe, 
More  than  God  or  religious  churchmen  may. 

Glo.  Name  not  religion,  for  thou  lov'st  the  flesh  ; 
And  ne'er  throughout  the  year  to  church  thou  go'st, 
Except  it  be  to  pray  against  thy  foes. 

Bed.  Cease,  cease  these  jars,   and   rest  your  minds  in 
peace  ! 
Let's  to  the  altar :  —  heralds,  wait  on  us  :  — 
Instead  of  gold,  we'll  offer  up  our  arms ; 
Since  arms  avail  not,  now  that  Henry's  dead. — 
Posterity,  await  for  wretched  years, 
When  at  their  mothers'  moist  eyes  babes  shall  suck; 
Our  isle  be  made  a  marish  of  salt  tears. 
And  none  but  women  left  to  wail  the  dead. — 
Henry  the  Fifth  !  thy  ghost  I  invocate  ; 
Prosper  this  realm,  keep  it  from  civil  broils  ! 
Combat  with  adverse  planets  in  the  heavens ! 
A  far  more  glorious  star  thy  soul  will  make 
Than  Julius  Caesar  or  bright  Berenice. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  honorable  lords,  health  to  you  all  ! 
Sad  tidings  bring  I  to  you  out  of  France, 
Of  loss,  of  slaughter,  and  discomfiture  : 
Guienne,  Champagne,  Rheims,  Rouen,  Orleans, 
Paris,  Guysors,  Poictiers,  all  are  quite  lost. 

Bed.  What  say'st  thou,    man !     before  dead   Henry's 
corse 
Speak  softly,  or  the  loss  of  those  great  towns 
Will  make  him  burst  his  lead,  and  rise  from  death. 

Glo.  Is  Paris  lost  }  is  Rouen  yielded  up  ? 
If  Henry  were  recall'd  to  life  again. 
These  news  would  cause  him  once  more  yield  the  ghost. 

Exe.  How  were  they  lost .-"  what  treachery  was  us'd  ? 

Mess.  No  treachery ;  but  want  of  men  and  money. 
Amongst  the  soldiers  this  is  muttered. 
That  here  you  maintain  several  factions  ; 
And,  whilst  a  field  should  be  dispatch'd  and  fought, 

K.H.VI.5.]  1.  75- 


Act  A]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  [Scene/. 

You  are  disputing  of  your  generals  :      -  -i  >'      H 

One  would  liave  lingering  wars,  with  little  COSttio  i*noy 
Another  would  By  swift,  but  wanteth  wings;-  [  .morfW 
And  a  third  thinks,  without  expense  at  all,      .  >  .nVW 
By  guileful  fair  words  peace  may  be  obtain'd«  ,aoo[  bnA. 
Awake,  awake,  English  nobility:  ,i(j  ;>(  sWw  yrfT 

Let  not  sloth  dim  your  honors  new-begot ;..  <  .tsHl  sVoK 
Cropp'd  are  the  flower-de-luces  in  your  arms  ;  /   .oVo 
Of  England's  coat  one  half  is  cut  away.  ; ,  -^n  haA 

Exe.  Were  our  tears  wanting  to  this  funeral,  ■    'pj/3 
These  tidings  would  call  forth  their  flowing  tides.  .VA 

Bed.  Me  they  concern  ;  regent  I  am  of  France. — • 
Give  me  my  steeled  coat  !  I'll  fight  for  France.         -'rtj 
Away  with  these  disgraceful  wailing  robes  ! 
Wounds  will  I  lend  the  French,  instead  of  eyes. 
To  weep  their  intermissive  miseries. 

Enter  a  second  Messenger. 

Sec.  Mess.  Lords,   view  these  letters,  full  of  bad  mis 
chance. 
France  is  revolted  from  the  English  quite, 
Except  some  petty  towns  of  no  import  : 
The  Dauphin  Charles  is  crowned  king  in  Rheims;         a 
The  Bastard  of  Orleans  with  him  is  join'd ;  \ 

Reignier,  duke  of  Anjou,  doth  take  his  part ; 
The  Duke  of  Alengon  fiyeth  to  his  side. 

Exe.  The  Dauphin  crowned  king  !  all  fly  to  hini'J^r 
O,  whither  shall  we  fly  from  this  reproach  .''  ■'  K««? 

Glo.  We  will  not  fly,  but  to  our  enemies'  throats  : — • 
Bedford,  if  thou  be  slack,  I'll  fight  it  out. 

Bed.  Gloster,  why  doubt 'st  thou  of  my  forwardness  .'* 
An  army  have  I  muster'd  in  my  thoughts, 
Wherewith  already  France  is  overrun. 

Enter  a  third  Messenger.  '  '  '^-f"^^ 

Third  Mess.  My  gracious  lords,  to  add  to  your  laments, 
Wherewith  you  now  bedew  King  Henry's  hearse,  -^.^w  \\ 
I  must  inform  you  of  a  dismal  fight  ->?'»dT 

Betwixt  the  stout  Lord  Talbot  and  the  French.         /-^ 
Win.  What!  wherein  Talbot  overcame.''  is't  so.?',» 
Third  Mess.  O,  no  ;  wherein   Lord   Talbot  \va^.,;9^/ii- 
thrown  :  .     i^rij 

The  circumstance  I'll  tell  you  more  at  large. 

1. 76.  [k.H.vi.6. 


A ct^t.V ""''  JCLVG  HEKR \ '  VI.  iScene  I. 

The  tenth  of  August  last,  this  dreadful  lord. 

Retiring  from  the  siege  of  Orleans, 

Having  full  scarce  six  thousand  in  his  troop. 

By  three-and-twenty  thousand  of  the  French 

Was  round  encompassed  and  set  upon. 

No  leisure  had  he  to  enrank  his  men  ; 

He  wanted  pikes  to  set  before  his  archers  ; 

Instead  whereof,  sharp  stakes,  pluck'd  out  of  hedges, 

They  pitched  in  the  ground  confusedly. 

To  keep  the  horsemen  off  from  breaking  in. 

More  than  three  hours  the  tight  continued  ; 

Where  valiant  Talbot,  above  human  thought. 

Enacted  wonders  with  his  sword  and  lance  : 

Hundreds  he  sent  to  hell,  and  none  durst  stand  him ; 

Here,  there,  and  every  where,  enrag'd  he  flew : 

The  French  exclaim'd,  the  devil  was  in  arms ; 

All  the  whole  army  stood  agaz'd  on  him  : 

His  soldiers,  spying  his  undaunted  spirit, 

"  A  Talbot  !■  a  Talbot !  "  cried  out  amain, 

And  rush'd  into  the  bowels  of  the  battle. 

Here  had  the  conquest  fully  been  seal'd  up. 

If  Sir  John  Fastolfe  had  not  play'd  the  coward  : 

He,  being  in  the  vaward,^  plac'd  behind. 

With  purpose  to  relieve  and  follow  them, — 

Cowardly  fled,  not  having  struck  one  stroke. 

Hence  grew  the  general  wreck  and  massacre;  -■ 

Inclosed  were  they  with  their  enemies  : 

A  base  Walloon,  to  win  the  Dauphin's  grace, 

Thrust  Talbot  with  a  spear  into  the  back  ; 

Whom  all  France,  with  their  chief  assembled  strength, 

Durst  not  presume  to  look  once  in  the  face. 

Bed.  Is  Talbot  slain  .'  then  I  will  slay  myself, 
For  living  idly  here  in  pomp  and  ease. 
Whilst  such  a  worthy  leader,  wanting  aid. 
Unto  his  dastard  foemen  is  betray 'd. 

Third  Mess.  O,  no,  he  lives ;  but  is  took  prisoner, 
And  Lord  Scales  with  him,  and  Lord  Hungerford  : 
Most  of  the  rest  slaughter'd  or  took  likewise. 

Bed.  His  ransom  there  is  none  but  I  shall  pay  : 
riLHare'the  Dauphin  headlong  from  his  throne. — 
His  crown  shall  be  the  ransom  of  my  friend  ; 
Four  of  their  lords  I'll  change  for  one  of  ours. — 
Farewell,  my  masters  ;  to  mv  task  will  I ;      ^ 

»vH.VI.7.]  I.  77. 


Ac//.]  THE  FIRS t  PART  OF  \Scen*  /A 

Bonfires  in  France  forthwith  I  am  to  make, 
To  keep  our  great  Saint  George's  feast  withal : 
Ten  thousand  soldiers  with  me  I  will  take. 
Whose  bloody  deeds  shall  make  all  Europe  quake. 

Third  Mess.  So  you   had  need ;    for  Orleans  is   bo- 
sieg'd  ; 
The  English  army  is  grown  weak  and  faint : 
The  Earl  of  Salisbury  craveth  supply. 
And  hardly  keeps  his  men  from  mutiny. 
Since  they,  so  few,  watch  such  a  multitude, 

Exe.  Remember,  lords,  your  oaths  to  Henry  sworn, 
Either  to  quell  the  Dauphin  utterly. 
Or  bring  him  in  obedience  to  your  yoke. 

Bed.  I  do  remember  't ;  and  here  take  my  -leave, 
To  go  about  my  preparation.  [Exit, 

Glo.  I'll  to  the  Tower,  with  all  the  haste  I  can, 
To  view  th'  artillery  and  munition  ; 
And  then  I  will  proclaim  young  Henry  king.  \Exit. 

Exe.  To  Eltham  will  I.  where  the  young  king  is, 
Being  ordain'd  his  special  governor  ; 
And  for  his  safety  there  I'll  best  devise.  [Exit. 

Win.  Each  hath  his  place  and  function  to  attend  : 
I  am  left  out ;  for  me  nothing  remains. 
But  long  I  will  not  be  Jack-out-of-office  : 
The  king  from  Eltham  I  intend  to  steal. 
And  sit  at  chiefest  stern  of  public  weal. 

[Exit.  Scene  closes. 

Scene  II.  France.  Before  Orleans. 

Flourish.     Enter  CHARLES,  with  his  Forces  ;    AlEN- 
gON,  Reignier,  and  others. 

Char.  Mars  his  true  moving,  even  as  in  the  heavens. 
So  in  the  earth,  to  this  day  is  not  known ; 
Late  did  he  shine  upon  the  English  side  ; 
Now  we  are  victors,  upon  us  he  smiles. 
What  towns  of  any  moment  but  we  have  ? 
At  pleasure  here  we  lie,  near  Orleans ; 
The  whiles  the  famish'd  English,  like  pale  ghosts, 
Faintly  besiege  us  one  hour  in  a  month. 

Alen.  They  want  their  porridge  and  their  fat  bull-beeves: 
Either  they  must  be  dieted  like  mules, 
And  have  their  provender  tied  to  their  mouths, 
Or  piteous  they  will  look,  like  drowndd  mice. 

I.  78.  [k.h.vi  8. 


Act/.^  KING  HENRY  yi.  [Scene//. 

Reig.  Let's  raise  the  siege  :  why  lie  we  idly  here  ? 
Talbot  is  taken,  whom  we  wont  to  fear  : 
Remaineth  none  but  mad-brain 'd  Salisbury  ; 
And  he  may  well  in  fretting  spend  his  gall, — 
Nor  men  nor  money  hath  he  to  make  war. 

Char.  Sound,  sound  alarm  !  we  will  rush  on  them. 
Now  for  the  honor  of  the  fdrlorn  French  !  — 
Him  I  forgive  my  death  that  killeth  me 
When  he  sees  me  go  back  one  foot  or  flee.  {Exeunt. 

Alarums  ;    excursions ;    afterward  a  retreat.  Re-enter 
Charles,  Alencon,  Reignier,  and  others. 

Char.  Who  ever  saw  the  like  ?  what  men  have  I  !  — 
Dogs  !  cowards  !  dastards  !  —  I  would  ne'er  have  fled, 
But  that  they  left  me  midst  my  enemies. 

Reig.  Salisbury  is  a  desperate  homicide  ; 
He  fighteth  as  one  weary  of  his  life. 
The  other  lords,  like  lions  wanting  food, 
Do  rush  upon  us  as  their  hungry  prey. 

A/en.  Froissart,  a  countryman  of  ours,  records, 
England  all  Olivers  and  Rowlands  bred 
During  the  time  Edward  the  Third  did  reign. 
More  truly  now  may  this  be  verified  ; 
For  none  but  Samsons  and  Goliases 
It  sendeth  forth  to  skirmish.     One  to  ten  ! 
Lean  raw-bon'd  rascals!  who  would  e'er  suppose 
They  had  such  courage  and  audacity  ? 

Char.  Let's  leave  this  town  ;  for  they  are  hare-brain'd 
slaves. 
And  hunger  will  enforce  them  be  more  eager  : 
Of  old  I  know  them  ;  rather  with  their  teeth 
The  walls  they'll  tear  down  than  forsake  the  siege. 

Rezg.  I  think,  by  some  odd  gimmers  or  device. 
Their  arms  are  set  like  clocks,  still  to  strike  on  ; 
Else  ne'er  could  they  hold  out  so  as  they  do. 
By  my  consent,  we'll  even  let  them  alone. 

Alen.  Be  it  so. 

Enter  the  Bastard  of  Orleans. 

Bast.  Where's  the  Prince  Dauphin  }    I  have  news  for 

him. 
Char.  Bastard  of  Orleans,  thrice  welcome  to  us. 
Bast.  Methinks  your  looks  are  sad,  your  oheer  appall'd  *, 

K.H.VJ.9.]  I.  79. 


A  a  /.]  THE  FIRS  T  PA  R  T  OF  [iicene  II. 

Hath  the  late  overthrow  wrought  this  offense? 

Be  not  disniay'd,  for  succor  is  at  hand  : 

A  holy  maid  hither  with  me  I  bring,  '^■ 

Which,  by  a  vision  sent  to  her  from  heaven,  '^ 

Ordained  is  to  raise  this  tedious  siege. 

And  drive  the  English  forth  the  bounds  of  France. 

The  spirit  of  deep  prophecy  she  hath, 

Exceeding  the  nine  sibyls  of  old  Rome  :  •  -'H 

What's  past  and  what's  to  come  she  can  descry.  !'»rti// 

Speak,  shall  I  call  her  in  ?  Believe  my  words,  ,  ^.  ^^v^y. 

For  they  are  certain  and  unfallible. 

Char.  Go,  call  her  in.      [Exit  Basfard.]     But  first,  to 
try  her  skill, 
Reignier,  stand  thou  as  Dauphin  in  my  place  :  '^^ 

Question  her  proudly  ;  let  thy  looks  be  stern  :  '^^^ 

By  this  means  shall  we  sound  what  skill  she  hath.  \RftirfS) 

-H 

Re-enter  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  with  La  Pucelle.  .,.^^j 

Reig.  Fair  maid,  is't  thou  wilt  do  these  wondrous  feats .'-"'  i 
Puc.  Reignier,  is't  thou  that  thinkest  to  beguile  me  ?— 
Where  is  the  Dauphin  ?  —  Come,  come  from  behind  ;        -^ 
I  know  thee  well,  though  never  seen  before. 
Be  not  amaz'd,  there's  nothing  hid  from  me  : 
In  private  will  I  talk  with  thee  apart. —  .   -•  'i 

Stand  back,  you  lords,  and  give  us  leave  awhile.  '  ^1 

Reig.  She  takes  upon  her  bravely  at  first  dash.  -'-i 

Puc.  Dauphin,  I  am  by  birth  a  shepherd's  daug-hter,  -^1 
My  wit  untrain'd  in  any  kind  of  art. 
Heaven  and  our  Lady  gracious  hath  it  pleas'd 
To  shine  on  my  contemptible  estate  :  -  •^* 

Lo,  whilst  I  waited  on  my  tender  lambs,  ^^^ 

And  to  sun's  parching  heat  display'd  my  cheeks,  "'•I  ^ 

God's  mother  deigned  to  appear  to  me, 
And,  in  a  vision  full  of  majesty,  '■'  ^ 

Will'd  me  to  leave  my  base  vocation,  ■  e^^ 

And  free  my  country  from  calamity :  ""  f^ 

Her  aid  she  promis'd,  and  assur'd  success :  .«"»\t- 

In  complete  glory  she  reveal'd  herself ; 
And,  whereas  I  was  black  and  swart  before. 
With  those  clear  rays  which  she  infus'd  on  me 
That  beauty  am  I  bless'd  with  which  you  see. 
Ask  me  what  question  thou  canst  possible,    —  -  - 
And  I  will  answer  unpremeditated :  rAaiA%ii- 

1. 8a.  [k.h.vi.io. 


Aeil.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  f I. 

My  courage  try  by  combat,  if  thou  dar'st,  3 

And  thou  shalt  find  that  I  exceed  my  sex.  ? 

Resolve  on  this, —  thou  shalt  be  fortunate, 
If  thou  receive  me  for  thy  warlike  mate. 

Char.  Thou  hast  astonish'd  me  with  thy  high  terms: 
Only  this  proof  I'll  of  thy  valor  make, — 
In  single  combat  thou  shalt  buckle  with  me ; 
And  if  thou  vanquishest,  thy  words  are  true ; 
Otherwise  I  renounce  all  confidence.  '/ 

Puc.  I  am  prepar'd :  here  is  my  keen-edg'd  sword, 
Deck'd  with  five  flower-de-luces  on  each  side ;  '' 

The  Vv'hich  at  Touraine,  in  Saint  Katharine's  churchyard. 
Out  of  a  deal  old  iron  I  chose  forth. 

Char.  Then  come,  o'  God's  name;  I  fear  no  womantJ 

Puc.  And,  while  I  live,  I'll  ne'er  fly  from  a  man.         ' 

[  Tliey  fight. 

Char.  Stay,  stay  thy  hands  !  thou  art  an  Amazon, 
And  fightest  with  the  sword  of  Deborah.  ' ) 

Ptcc.  Christ's  mother  helps  me,  else  I  were  too  weak. 

Char.  Whoe'er  helps  thee,  'tis  thou  that  must  help  me  : 
Impatiently  I  burn  with  thy  desire  ;  '    ■ 

My  heart  and  hands  thou  hast  at  once  subdu'd. 
Excellent  Pucelle,  if  thy  name  be  so, 
■"Let" me  thy  servant,  and  not  sovereign,  be  :  ^^\nA 

'Tis  the  French  Dauphin  sueth  to  thee  thus. 

Puc.  I  must  not  yield  to  any  rites  of  love. 
For  my  profession's  sacred  from  above  : 
When  I  have  chased  all  thy  foes  from  hence.  '^' 

Then  will  I  think  upon  a  recompense.  '' 

Char.  Meantime  look  gracious  on  thy  prostrate  thrall. 

Reig.  My  lord,  methinks,  is  very  long  in  talk. 

Alen.  Doubtless  he  shrives  this  woman  to  her  smock ; 
Else  ne'er  could  he  so  long  protract  his  speech. 

Reig.  Shall  we  disturb  him.  since  he  keeps  no  mean  ? 
•    Alen,  He  may  mean  more  than  we  poor  men  do  know: 
These  women  are  shrewd  tempters  with  their  tongues. 

Reig.  My  lord,  where  are  you  .■'  what  devise  you  on  } 
Shall  we  give  over  Orleans,  or  no  ? 

Ftic,  Why,  no,  I  say,  distrustful  recreants  ! 
Fight  till  the  last  gasp  ;  I  will  be  your  guard.  "^ 

Char.  What  she  says,  I'll  confirm  :  we'll  fight  it  out. 

Pitc.  Assign'd  am  I  to  be  the  English  scourge. 
■This  night  the  siege  assuredly  I'll  raise: 

K.H.VI.Il]  I.  8l. 


Aei/.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  \Seeni  III. 

Expect  Saint  Martin's  summer,  halcyon  days, 

Since  I  have  entered  into  these  wars. 

Glory  is  like  a  circle  in  the  water, 

Which  never  ceaseth  to  enlarge  itself. 

Till,  by  broad  spreading,  it  disperse  to  naught. 

With  Henry's  death  the  English  circle  ends; 

Dispersed  are  the  glories  it  included. 

Now  am  I  like  that  proud-insulting  ship 

Which  Caesar  and  his  fortune  bare  at  once. 

Char.  Was  Mahomet  inspired  with  a  dove  ? 
Thou  with  an  eagle  art  inspired,  then. 
Helen,  the  mother  of  great  Constantine, 
Nor  yet  Saint  Philip's  daughters,  were  like  thee. 
Bright  star  of  Venus,  fall'n  down  on  the  earth, 
How  may  I  reverent  worship  thee  enough.? 

Alen.  Leave  off  delays,  and  let  us  raise  the  siege. 

Reig.  Woman,  do  what  thou  canst  to  save  our  honors; 
Drive  them  from  Orleans,  and  be  immortaliz'd. 

Char.  Presently  we'll  try:  —  come,  let's  away  about 
it:  — 
No  prophet  will  I  trust,  if  she  prove  false.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  in.  London.  Before  the  gates  of  the  Tower. 
Enter  the  Duke  of  Gloster,  with  his  Serving-men  in 
blue  coats. 
Glo.  I  am  come  to  survey  the  Tower  this  day  : 
Since  Henry's  death,  I  fear,  there  is  conveyance. — 
Where  be  these  warders,  that  they  wait  not  here  } 
Open  the  gates  ;  'tis  Gloster  that  calls.    \Servattts  knock. 
First  Warder.  \7vithin^  Who's  there  that  knocketh 

so  imperiously .'' 
First  Serv.  It  is  the  noble  Duke  of  Gloster. 
Second  Warder,  [within]    Whoe'er  he  be,   you  may 

not  be  let  in. 
First  Serv.  Villains,  answer  you  so  the  lord  protector  .> 
First  Warder,    [within^  The  Lord  protect  him  !  so 

we  answer  him  : 
We  do  no  otherwise  than  we  are  will'd. 

Glo.  Who  willed  you  }  or  whose  will  stands  but  mine  } 
There's  none  protector  of  the  realm  but  I. — 
Break  up  the  gates,  I'll  be  your  warrantize : 
Shall  I  be  flouted  thus  by  dunghill  grooms  } 

{Gloster' s  Serving-men  rush  at  the  Tower-gates. 

I.  8a.  (k.M.vi.i» 


4cif.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene III. 

Woodville.  \within\.  What  noise  is  this?  what  trai- 
tors have  we  here  ? 
'  Glo.  Lieutenant,  is  it  you  whose  voice  I  hear? 
Open  the  gates  ;  here's  Gloster  that  would  enter. 

Woodville.    \within\    Have  patience,  noble  duke  ;    I 
may  not  open  ; 
The  Cardinal  of  Winchester  forbids  : 
From  him  I  have  express  commandment 
That  thou  nor  none  of  thine  shall  be  let  in. 

Glo.  Faint-hearted  Woodville,  prizes!  him  'fore  me, — 
Arrogant  Winchester,  that  haughty  prelate, 
Whom  Henry,  our  late  sovereign,  ne'er  could  brook? 
Thou  art  no  friend  to  God  or  to  the  king  : 
Open  the  gates,  or  I'll  shut  thee  out  shortly. 

Serving-men.  Open  the  gates  unto  the  lord  protector; 
We'll  burst  them  open,  if  you  come  not  quickly. 
{Gloster  s  Serving-men  rush  agai)i  at  the  Tower-gates. 

Enter  WINCHESTER,  with  his  Serving-men   in  tawny 
coats. 

Win.  How  now,  ambitious    Humphrey  !  what  means 
this  ? 

Glo.  Peel'd  priest,  dost    thou    command   me  be   shut 
out? 

Win.  I  do,  thou  most  usurping  proditor, 
And  not  protector,  of  the  king  or  realm. 

Glo.  Stand  back,  thou  manifest  conspirator, 
Thou  that  contriv'dst  to  murder  our  dead  lord  ; 
Thou  that  giv'st  whores  indulgences  to  sin  : 
I'll  canvass  thee  in  thy  broad  cardinal's  hat, 
If  thou  proceed  in  this  thy  insolence. 

Win.  Nay,  stand  thou  back  ;  I  will   not  budge  a  foot ; 
This  be  Damascus,  be  thou  cursed  Cain, 
To  slay  thy  brother  Abel,  if  thou  wilt. 

Glo.  I  will  not  slay  thee,  but  I'll  drive  thee  back  : 
Thy  scarlet  robes  as  a  child's  bearing-cloth 
I'll  use  to  carry  thee  out  of  this  place. 

Win.  Do  what  thou  dar'st  ;  I  beard  thee  to  thy  face. 

Glo.  What !  am  I  dar'd,  and  bearded  to  my  face  ?  — 
Draw,  men,  for  all  this  privileged  place  ; 
Blue-coats  to  tawny-coats. —  Priest,  beware  your  beard  ; 
I  mean  to  tug  it,  and  to  cuff  you  soundly  : 
Under  my  feet  I'll  stamp  thy  cardinal's  hat; 
K.H.V1.13.]  1. 83. 


Act  /.]  THE  FIRS T  PART  OF  \_Seene  J 11. 

In  spite  of  Pope  or  dignities  of  church. 

Here  by  the  cheeks  I'll  drag  thee  up  and  down. 

IVin.  Gloster,  thou  wilt  answer  this  before  the  Pope. 
Glo.  Winchester  goose  !  I  cry,  a  rope  !  a  rope  !  — 
■  Now  beat  them  hence ;  why  do  you  let  them  stay  ?  — 
Thee  I'll  chase  hence,  thou  wolf  in  sheep's  array, — 
Out,  tawny-coats  !  —  out,  scarlet  hypocrite  !  ')  ^ffy 

Here  Gloster  and  his  Serving-men  attack  the' bfJier 

party ;  and  enter   in  the   Imrly-htrly  the 

Mayor  of  London  and  Officers. 

May.  Fie,    lords !    that   you,    being    supreme    magis' 
trates,  ,   j 

Thus  contumeliously  should  break  the  peace ! 

Glo.  Peace,  mayor  !  thou  know'st  little  of  my  wrongs . 
Here's  Beaufort,  that  regards  nor  God  nor  king. 
Hath  here  distrain'd  the  Tower  to  his  use. 

IVin.  Here's  Gloster,  a  foe  to  citizens ; 
One  that  still  motions  war,  and  never  peace, 
O'ercharging  your  free  purses  with  large  fines; 
That  seeks  to  overthrow  religion, 
Because  he  is  protector  of  the  realm  ; 
And  would  have  armor  here  out  of  the  Tower, 
To  crown  himself  king,  and  suppress  the  prince. 

Glo.  I  will  not  answer  thee  with  words,  but  blows. 

{Here  they  skirmish  again. 

May.  Naught  rests  for  me  in  this  tumultuous  strife. 
But  to  make  open  proclamation  :  — 
Come,  officer ;  as  loud  as  e'er  thou  canst. 

Off.  [reads]  "  All  manner  of  men  assembled  here  in 
arms  this  day  against  God's  peace  and  the  king's,  we 
charge  and  command  you,  in  his  highness'  name,  to 
repair  to  your  several  dwelling-places ;  and  not  to  wear, 
handle,  or  use  any  sword,  weapon,  or  dagger,  hencefor- 
ward, upon  pain  of  death." 

Glo.  Cardinal,  I'll  be  no  breaker  of  the  law: 
But  we  shall  meet,  and  break  our  minds  at  large. 

IVin.  Gloster,  we'll  meet ;  to  thy  dear  cost,  be  sure: 
Thy  heart-blood  I  will  have  for  this  day's  work. 

J/ay.   I'll  call  for  clubs,  if  you  will  not  away  :  — 
This  cardinal's  more  haughty  than  the  devil. 

Glo.   Mayor,    farewell  :    thou    dost     but     what    thou 
mayst. 

1. 84.  [K.H.V1.14. 


Act/]  KING  HENR  Y  VI.  \Scene  IV. 

Win.  Abominable  Gloster  !  guard  thy  head  ; 
For  I  intend  to  have  it  ere  long. 

{^Exeunt,  st'i>erally,  Gloster  and  IVtnc /tester' - 

with  their  Serving-men.  .  // 

May.  See  the  coast  clear  d,  and  then  we  will  depart.'**>l 

Good  God,  these  nobles  should  such  stomachs  bear  !      "  nl 

I  myself  fight  not  once  in  forty  year.  [E.reuntl'^i 

Scene  IV.     France.     Before  Orleans. 

Enter,  on  the  walls,  the  Master-Gunner  and  his  Son. 

M.  Gun.   Sirrah,    thou    know'st  how   Orleans    is    be- 
sieg'd, 
And  how  the  English  have  the  suburbs  won. 

Son.  Father,  I  know ;  and  oft  have  shot  at  them, 
Howe'er,  unfortunate,  I  miss'd  my  aim. 

M.  Gun.  But  now  thou  shalt  not.    Be  thou  rul'd  by  me: 
Chief  master-gunner  am  I  of  this  town ; 
Something  I  must  do  to  procure  me  grace. 
The  prince's  'spials  have  informed  me 
How  th'  English,  in  the  suburbs  close  intrench'd, 
Wont,  through  a  secret  grate  of  iron  bars 
In  yonder  tower,  to  overpeer  the  city  ; 
And  thence  discover  how  with  most  advantage 
They  may  vex  us  with  shot  or  with  assault. 
To  intercept  this  inconvenience, 
A  piece  of  ordnance  'gainst  it  I  have  plac'd  ; 
And  even  these  three  days  have  I  watch'd,  if  I 
Could  see  them. 

Now  do  thou  watch,  for  I  can  stay  no  longer. 
If  thou  spy'st  any,  run  and  bring  me  word  ;  -  - 

And  thou  shalt  find  me  at  the  governor's.  \^Exity^- 

Son.  Father,  I  warrant  you  ;  take  you  no  care;  '"''^ 

I'll  never  trouble  you,  if  I  may  spy  them. 

Enter,  in  an  upper  chamber  of  a  tower,  the  Lords  SAL- 
ISBURY   and  Talbot,   Sir    William    Glans- 

DALE,  Sir  Thomas  Gargrave  and  others.  -  ,. 

Sal.  Talbot,  my  life,  my  joy,  again  return'd! 
How  wert  thou  handled  being  prisoner. 
Or  by  what  means  gott'';t  thou  to  be  releas'd. 
Discourse,  I  pritliee,  on  chis  turret  s  <op.  ■,  y^ 

TcJ.  The  Duke  of  Bedford  had  a  prisoner 
Called  the  brave  Lord  Ponton  de  Santrailles, 

H.H.Vl.Ij.J  I.  85. 


Act  /.]  THE  FIRST  PA  R  T  OF  [Seem  IV, 

For  him  was  I  exchang'd  and  ransomed. 

But  with  a  baser  man-of-arms  by  far. 

Once,  in  contempt,  they  would  have  barter'd  me: 

Which  I,  disdaining,  scorn'd  ;  and  cravdd  death 

Rather  than  I  would  be  so  vile-esteem'd. 

In  fine,  redeem 'd  I  was  as  I  desir'd. 

But,  O,  the  treacherous  Fastolfe  wounds  my  heart ! 

Whom  with  my  bare  fists  I  would  execute. 

If  I  now  had  him  brought  into  my  power. 

Sal.  Yet  tell'st  thou  not  how  thou  wert  entertain'd. 

Tal.  With  scoffs,  and  scorns,  and  contumelious  taunts. 
In  open  market-place  produc'd  they  me. 
To  be  a  public  spectacle  to  all : 
Here,  said  they,  is  the  terror  of  the  French, 
The  scarecrow  that  affrights  our  children  so. 
Then  broke  I  from  the  officers  that  led  me. 
And  with  my  nails  digg'd  stones  out  of  the  ground. 
To  hurl  at  the  beholders  of  my  shame : 
My  grisly  countenance  made  others  fly ; 
None  durst  come  near  for  fear  of  sudden  death. 
In  iron  walls  they  deem'd  me  not  secure  ; 
So  great  fear  of  my  name  'mongst  them  was  spread, 
That  they  suppos'd  I  could  rend  bars  of  steel, 
And  spurn  in  pieces  posts  of  adamant  : 
Wherefore  a  guard  of  chosen  shot  I  had, 
That  walk'd  about  me  ever}-  minute-while ; 
And  if  I  did  but  stir  out  of  my  bed. 
Ready  they  were  to  shoot  me  to  the  heart. 

Sal.  I  grieve  to  hear  what  torments  you  endur'd  ; 
But  we  will  be  reveng'd  sufficiently. 
Now  it  is  supper-time  in  Orleans  : 
Here,  through  this  secret  grate,  I  count  each  one. 
And  view  the  Frenchmen  how  they  fortify  ; 
Let  us  look  in  ;  the  sight  will  much  delight  thee. — 
Sir  Thomas  Gargrave  and  Sir  William  Glansdale, 
Let  me  have  your  express  opinions 
Where  is  best  place  to  make  our  battery  next. 

Gar.  I  think,  at  the  north  gate ;  for  there  stand  lords. 

Glan.  And  I,  here,  at  the  bulwark  of  the  bridge. 

Tal.  For  aught  I  see,  this  city  must  be  famish 'd, 
Or  with  light  skirmishes  enfeebled. 

\_Shol  from  the  town.     Salisbury  and  Sir 
Thomas  Gargravi fall. 

I.  86.  [K.M.VI.16. 


Act/.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  \_S:ene  tV. 

Sal.  O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  us,  wretched  sinners! 

Gar.  O  Lord,  have  mercy  on  me.  woful  man  ! 

Tal.  What  chance  is  this  that  suddenly  hath  cross 'd 

us  ?  — 
Speak,  Sahsbury  ;  at  least,  if  thou  canst  speak  : 
How  far'st  thou,  mirror  of  all  martial  men  ? 
One  of  thy  eyes  and  thy  cheek's  side  struck  off  !  — 
Accursed  tower  !  accursed  fatal  hand 
That  hath  contriv'd  this  woful  tragedy ! 
In  thirteen  battles  Salisbury  o'ercame; 
Henry  the  Fifth  he  first  train'd  to  the  wars; 
Whilst  any  trump  did  sound,  or  drum  struck  up, 
His  sword  did  ne'er  leave  striking  in  the  field.-— 
Yet  liv'st  thou,  Salisbury  ?  though  thy  speech  doth  fail, 
One  eye  thou  hast,  to  look  to  heaven  for  grace  : 
The  sun  with  one  eye  vieweth  all  the  world. — 
Heaven,  be  thou  gracious  to  none  alive. 
If  Salisbury  wants  mercy  at  thy  hands!  — 
Bear  hence  his  body  ;  I  will  help  to  bury  it. — 
Sir  Thomas  Gargrave,  hast  thou  any  life  } 
Speak  unto  Talbot ;  nay.  look  up  to  him. — 
Salisbury,  cheer  thy  spirit  with  this  comfort ; 
Thou  shalt  not  die  whiles  — 
He  beckons  with  his  hand,  and  smiles  on  me, 
As  who  should  say,  "  When  I  am  dead  and  gone, 
Remember  to  avenge  me  on  the  French." — 
Plantagenet,  I  will;  and,  Nero-like, 
Play  on  the  lute,  beholding  the  towns  burn  : 
Wretched  shall  France  be  only  in  my  name. 

[  Thunder  heard  ;  afterwards  an  alarum. 
What  stir  is  this  ?  what  tumult's  in  the  heavens.' 
Whence  cometh  this  alarum  and  this  noise  } 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My   lord,  my    lord,    the    French   have  gather'd 
head  : 
The  Dauphin,  with  one  Joan  la  Pucelle  join'd, — 
A  holy  prophetess  new  risen  up, — 
Is  come  with  a  great  power  to  raise  the  siege. 

\SaUsburv  lifts  himself  up  and  groans, 
Tal.  Hear,  hear  how  dying  Salisbury  doth  groan  ! 
It  irks  his  heart  he  cannot  be  reveng'd. — 
Frenchmen,  I'll  be  a  Salisbury  to  you  ;  — 

K.H.V1.17.]  1. 87. 


Ac< /.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  [Scene  K 

Pucelle  or  puzzle,  dolphin  or  dogfish. 

Your  hearts  I'll  stamp  out  with  my  horse's  heels, 

And  make  a  quagmire  of  your  mingled  brains. — 

Convey  me  Salisbury  into  his  tent  : 

Then  we'll  try  what  these  dastard  Frenchmen  dare. 

[E.Vi'un/,  bcaritig  out  the  bodies. 

Scene  V.     Before  one  of  the  gates  of  Orleans. 

Alarums.    Skirmishings.    Enter  T ai^bot , pursuing  the 
Dauphin,  drives  him  in,  and  exit :  then  enter 
La  Pucelle,    driving  Englishmen  be- 
fore  her,  and  exit  after  them  : 
then  re-enter  Talbot. 
Tal.  Where  is  my  strength,  my  valor,  and  my  force  ? 
Our  English  troops  retire,  I  cannot  stay  them ; 
A  woman  clad  in  armor  chaseth  them. 
Here,  here  she  comes. 

Re-enter  La  Pucelle. 

I'll  have  a  bout  with  thee; 
Devil  or  devil's  dam,  I'll  conjure  thee  : 
Blood  will  I  draw  on  thee, —  thou  art  a  witch.— 
And  straightway  give  thy  soul  to  him  thou  serv'st. 
Puc.  Come,  come,  'tis  only  I  that  must  disgrace  thee. 

I  They  fight. 
Tal.  Heavens,  can  you  suffer  hell  so  to  prevail } 
My  breast  I'll  burst  with  straining  of  my  courage. 
And  from  my  shoulders  crack  my  arms  asunder. 
But  I  will  chastise  this  high-minded  strumpet. 

[  They  fight  again. 
Puc.  [retiring]  Talbot,  farewell ;  thy  hour  is  not  yet 
come: 
I  must  go  victual  Orleans  forthwith. 
O'ertake  me,  if  thou  canst ;  I  scorn  thy  strength. 
Go,  go  cheer  up  thy  hunger-starved  men  ; 
Help  Salisbury  to  make  his  testament  : 
This  day  is  ours,  as  many  more  shall  be. 

[  La  Pucelle  enters  the  to^tvn  with  Soldiers. 
Tal.  My  thoughts  are  whirled  like  a  potter's  wheel; 
I  know  not  where  I  am.  nor  what  I  do  : 
A  witch  by  fear,  not  force,  like  Hannibal, 
Drives  back  our  troops,  and  conquers  as  she  lists: 
So  bees  with  smoke,  and  doves  with  noisome  stench, 

\.  88.  [K.H.VI.tS. 


Ac//.]  KING  HENRV  yr.  iSctne  t'. 

Are  from  their  hives  and  houses  driven  away. 
They  caird  us,  for  our  fierceness,  English  dogs;  i 

Now,  Hke  to  whcl[)s,  we  crying  run  away.  il 

[A  short  alaruviS 
Hark,  countrymen  !  either  renew  the  fight. 
Or  tear  the  Hons  out  of  England's  coat ; 
Renounce  your  soil,  give  sheep  in  lions'  stead  : 
Sheep  run  not  half  so  timorous  from  the  wolf, 
Or  horse  or  oxen  from  the  leopard,  i 

As  you  fly  from  your  oft-subdued  slaves.  ) 

{Alarum.     Another  skirmish. 
It  will  not  be  :  — •  retire  into  your  trenches  : 
You  all  consented  unto  Salisbury's  death, 
For  none  would  strike  a  stroke  in  his  revenge. — 
Pucelle  is  entered  into  Orleans, 
In  spite  of  us  or  aught  that  we  could  do. 
O,  would  I  were  to  die  with  Salisbury  ! 
The  shame  hereof  will  make  me  hide  my  head. 

{Alarum  :  retreat.     Exeunt  Talbot  and  Forces. 

Flourish.  Enter,  on  the  walls,  La  Pucelle,  Charles. 

the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Reignier,  Alencon, 

and   Soldiers. 

Puc.   Advance  our  waving  colors  on  the  walls  ;  j 

Rescu'd  is  Orleans  from  the  English  :  — 
Thus  Joan  la  Pucelle  hath  perform 'd  her  word. 

Char.  Divinest  creature,  Astrsa's  daughter, 
How  shall  I  honor  thee  for  this  success  } 
Thy  promises  are  like  Adonis'  gardens. 
That  one  day  bloom'd,  and  fruitful  were  the  next. —         j 
France,  triumph  in  thy  glorious  prophetess  ! —  •' 

Recover'd  is  the  town  of  Orleans  : 
More  blessed  hap  did  ne'er  befall  our  state.  l 

Reig.  Why  ring  not  out  the  bells  throughout  the  town  ?i 
Dauphin,  command  the  citizens  make  bonfires,  M^.  ^A 

And  feast  and  banquet  in  the  open  streets,  ;.   -J 

To  celebrate  the  joy  that  God  hath  given  us. 

Alen.   All  France  will  be  replete  with  mirth  and  joy. 
When  they  shall  hear  how  we  have  play'd  the  men.  i 

Char.  'Tis  Joan,  not  we,  by  whom  the  day  is  won  ;    -  J 
For  which  1  will  divide  my  crown  with  her ; 
And  all  the  priests  and  friars  in  my  realm 
Shall  in  procession  sing  her  endless  praise. 
K.H.V1.19.]  \.  89. 


Ait  //.)  THE  FIRS T  PART  OF  \Scine  /. . . 

A  statelier  pyramis  to  her  I'll  rear 

Than  Rhodope's  of  Memphis  ever  was : 

In  memory  of  her  when  she  is  dead, 

Her  ashes,  in  an  urn  more  precious 

Than  the  rich-jewel'd  coffer  of  Darius, 

Transported  shall  be  at  high  festivals 

Ever  before  the  kings  and  queens  of  France. 

No  longer  on  Saint  Denis  will  we  cry, 

But  Joan  la  Pucelle  shall  be  France's  saint. 

Come  in,  and  let  us  banquet  royally, 

After  this  golden  day  of  victory.  {^Flourish.  Exeunt. 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.  France.  Before  Orleans. 

Enter,  to  the  gate,  a  French  Sergeant  and  two  Sentinels, 

Serg.  Sirs,  take  your  places,  and  be  vigilant : 
If  any  noise  or  soldier  you  perceive 
Near  to  the  walls,  by  some  apparent  sign 
Let  us  have  knowledge  at  the  court-of-guard. 

First  Sent.    Sergeant,    you    shall.      [Exit  Sergeant.] 
Thus  are  poor  servitors  — 
When  others  sleep  upon  their  quiet  beds  — 
Constrain'd  to  watch  in  darkness,  rain,  and  cold. 

Enter  Talbot,    BEDFORD,    BURGUNDY,  and  Forces, 
with  scaling-ladders,  their  drums  beating  a 
dead  ?narch. 

Tal.  Lord  regent,  and  redoubted  Burgundy, — 
By  whose  approach  the  regions  of  Artois, 
Walloon,  and  Picardy  are  friends  to  us, — 
This  happy  night  the  Frenchmen  are  secure, 
Having  all  day  carous'd  and  banqueted  : 
Embrace  we,  then,  this  opportunity. 
As  fitting  best  to  quittance  their  deceit, 
Contriv'd  by  art  and  baleful  sorcery. 

Bed.  Coward  of  France !  —  how  much  he  wrongs  his 
fame. 
Despairing  of  his  own  arm's  fortitude. 
To  join  with  witches  and  the  help  of  hell  ! 

Bur.  Traitors  have  never  other  company. — 
But  what's  that  Pucelle,  whom  they  term  so  pure  ? 

Tal.  A  maid,  they  say. 

1.  90.  [K.H.VI.SO. 


Aetl^  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  I. 

Bed.  A  maid  !  and  be  so  martial ! 

Bur.  Pray  God  she  prove  not  masculine  ere  long ; 
If  underneath  the  standard  of  the  French 
She  carry  armor,  as  she  hath  begun. 

Tal.  Well,  let  them  practice  and  converse  with  spirits  : 
God  is  our  fortress,  in  whose  conquering  name 
Let  us  resolve  to  scale  their  flinty  bulwarks. 

Bed.  Ascend,  brave  Talbot ;  we  will  follow  thee. 

Tal.  Not  all  together  :  better  far,  I  guess, 
That  we  do  make  our  entrance  several  ways  ; 
That,  if  it  chance  the  one  of  us  do  fail 
The  other  yet  may  rise  against  their  force. 

Bed.  Agreed  :  I'll  to  yonder  corner. 

Bur.  And  I  to  this. 

Tal.  And  here  will  Talbot  mount,  or  make  his  grave. — 
Now,  Salisbury,  for  thee  and  for  the  right 
Of  English  Henry,  shall  this  night  appear 
How  much  in  duty  I  am  bound  to  both. 

[  The  E?iglish  scale  the  xoalls,  crying  "  Si.  George  ! 
a  Talbot .'  "  and  all  enter  the  town. 

Sent.  Arm  !  arm  !  the  enemy  doth  make  assault  ! 

The  French  leap  over  the  walls  in  their  shirts.    Enter, 

several  ways,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  Alencon  and 

Reignier,  half  ready  and  half  unready. 

Alen.  How  now,  my  lords  !  what,  all  unready  so  } 

Bast.  Unready  !  ay,  and  glad  we  scap'd  so  well. 

Reig.  'Twas  time,  I  trow,  to  wake  and  leave  our  beds, 
Hearing  alarums  at  our  chamber-doors. 

Alen.  Of  all  e.xploits  since  first  I  follovv'd  arms, 
Ne'er  heard  I  of  a  warlike  enterprise 
More  venturous  or  desperate  than  this. 

Bast.  I  think  this  Talbot  be  a  tiend  of  hell. 

Reig.  If  not  of  hell,  the  heavens,  sure,  favor  him. 

Alen.  Here  cometh  Charles  :  I  marvel  how  he  sped. 

Bast.  Tut,  holy  Joan  was  his  defensive  guard. 

Enter  Charles  and 'La  Pucelle. 

Char.  Is  this  thy  cunning,  thou  deceitful  dame  ? 
Didst  thou  at  first,  to  flatter  us  withal. 
Make  us  partakers  of  a  little  gain, 
That  now  our  loss  might  be  ten  times  so  much  } 

Puc.  Wherefore  is  Charles  impatient  with  his  friend  ? 

K  H.VI.2I.]  I.  qi. 


Act  //.I  THJ-:  FIRST  PA RT  OF  [Scene  h. 

At  all  times  will  you  have  my  power  alike  ?  ,' 

Sleeping  or  waking,  must  I  still  prevail,  m 

Or  will  you  blame  and  lay  the  fault  on  me  ?         n-.Dmj  11 
Improvident  soldiers  !  had  your  watch  been  go6A\*.'.^ 
This  sudden  mischief  never  could  have  fall'n.  li^- 

C/uir.  Uuke  of  Alen^on,  this  was  your  default','  *^'        , 
That,  being  captain  of  the  watch  to-night,  "  '''  f*' 

Ditl  look  no  better  to  that  weighty  charge. 

A/t'n.  Had  all  your  quarters  been  as  safely  kept 
As  that  whereof  I  had  the  government,  *"^-: 

We  had  not  been  thus  shamefully  surpris'd.  ""  vt 

Bast.  Mine  was  secure.  '''^"  ' 

Reig.  And  so  was  mine,'my  io^d. 

Char.   And,  for  myself,  most  part  of  all  this  night, 
Within  her  quarter  and  mine  own  precinct 
I  was  employ 'd  in  passing  to  and  fro, 
About  relieving  of  the  sentinels  : 
Then  how  or  which  way  should  they  first  break  in?        " 

Puc.  Question,  my  lords,  no  further  of  the  case, 
How  or  which  way  :   'tis  sure  they  found  some  place 
But  weakly  guarded,  where  the  breach  was  made. 
And  now  there  rests  no  other  shift  but  this, —  -,a  \ 

To  gather  our  soldiers,  scatter'd  and  dispers'd, 
And  lay  new  platforms  to  endamage  them. 
AlaruDis.    Enter  an  English  Soldier,  crying  ".4   Talbot ! 

a   Talbot  \"     They  fly,  leaTying  their  clothes  behin^jt^ 

Sold.  I'll  be  so  bold  to  take  what  they  have  left.      -.'A 
The  cry  of  Talbot  serves  me  for  a  sword  ;  w 

For  I  have  loaden  me  with  many  spoils, 
Using  no  other  weapon  but  his  name.  ^Exit. 

Scene   II.    Orleans.      Within  the  town. 

Enter  Talbot,  Bedford,  Burgundy,  a  Captain,  ««<:/ 

others,  --V. 

Bed.  The  day  begins  to  break,  and  night  is  Hed,     ■ 
Whose  pitchy  mantle  over-veil'd  the  earth. 
Here  sound  retreat,  and  cease  our  hot  pursuit. 

{Retreat  sounded. 

Tal.  Bring  forth  the  body  of  old  Salisbury, 
And  here  advance  it  in  the  market-place, 
The  middle  center  of  this  cursed  town. 
Now  have  I  paid  my  vow  unto  his  soul : 

I.  92.  lK.H.Vi.22. 


Act  I/.']  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  rr 

For  every  drop  of  blood  was  drawn  from  him,  ) 

There  hath  at  least  five  P>enchmen  died  to-night.        ' 

And  that  hereafter  ages  may  behold        '  ^Mt^i""^t    '^A. 

What  ruin  happca'd  in  revenge  of  him,  ■    ■■-t. 

Within  their  rhiefest  temple  I'll  erect 

A  tomb,  wherein  his  corpse  shall  be  interr'd : 

Upon  the  which,  that  every  one  may  read, 

Shall  be  engrav'd  the  sack  of  Orleans, 

The  treacherous  manner  of  his  mournful  death, 

And  what  a  terror  he  had  been  to  France. 

But,  lords,  in  all  our  bloody  massacre, 

I  muse  we  met  not  with  the  Dauphin's  grace, 

•His  new-come  champion,  virtuous  Joan  of  Arc, 

Nor  any  of  his  false  confederates. 

Be(/.  'Tis  thought,  Lord  Talbot,  when  the  fight  began, 
Rous'd  on  the  sudden  from  their  drowsy  beds. 
They  did,  amongst  the  troops  of  armed  men, 
Leap  o'er  the  walls  for  refuge  in  the  field. 
,  Bur.  Myself  —  as  far  as  I  could  well  discern 
For  smoke  and  dusty  vapors  of  the  night  — 
Am  sure  I  scar'd  the  Dauphin  and  his  trull, 
When  arm  in  arm  they  both  came  swiftly  running,       A 
Like  to  a  pair  of  loving  turtle-doves,  ,,) 

That  could  not  live  asunder  day  or  night.  A. 

After  that  things  are  set  in  order  here,  < 

We'll  follow  them  with  all  the  power  we  have.  T 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

AFess.  All  hail,  my  lords  !    Which  of  this  princely  train 
Call  ye  the  warlike  Talbot,  for  his  acts 
So  much  applauded  through  the  realm  of  France  ? 

ZaU  ■  Here  is  the  Talbot  :  who  would  speak  with  him  } 

Mess.  The  virtuous  lady,  Countess  of  Auvergne, 
With  modesty  admiring  thy  renown, 
Uy  me  entreats,  great  lord,  thou  wouldst  vouchsafe 
To  visit  her  poor  castle  where  she  lies. 
That  she  may  boast  she  hath  beheld  the  man 
Whose  glory  fills  the  world  with  loud  report. 

Bur.  Is  it  even  so?     Nay.  then,  I  see  our  wars 
Will  turn  unto  a  peaceful  comic  sport. 
When  ladies  crave  to  be  encountered  with. —  ^ 

You  mayn't,  my  lord,  despise  her  gentle  suit. 

Ta/.  Ne'er  trust  me,  then  ;  for  when  a  world  of  men 
K.H.V1.23.]  1. 93. 


A  ei  //.}  THE  FIRS  T  PART  OF  [SetHe  I  I  J. 

Could  not  prevail  with  all  their  oratory, 
Yet  hath  a  woman's  kindness  over-rul'd  :  — 
And  therefore  tell  her  I  return  great  thanks. 
And  in  submission  will  attend  on  her. — 
Will  not  your  honors  bear  me  company? 

Bed.  No,  truly ;  it  is  more  than  manners  will : 
And  I  have  heard  it  said,  unbidden  guests 
Are  often  welcomest  when  they  are  gone. 

Tal.  Well  then,  alone,  since  there's  no  remedy, 
I  mean  to  prove  this  lady's  courtesy. — 
Come  hither,  captain.     [  Whispers.^     You    perceive  my 
mind  ? 

Capt.  I  do,  my  lord,  and  mean  accordingly.     \Exeunt. 

Scene  III.    Auvergne.      Court  of  the  Castle, 
Enter  the  Countess  and  her  Porter. 
Count.  Porter,  remember  what  I  gave  in  charge  ; 

And  when  you've  done  so,  bring  the  keys  to  me. 

Port.  Madam,  I  will.  \Exit, 

Count.  The  plot  is  laid :  if  all  things  fall  out  right, 

I  shall  as  famous  be  by  this  exploit 

As  Scythian  Tomyris  by  Cyrus'  death. 

Great  is  the  rumor  of  this  dreadful  knight, 

And  his  achievements  of  no  less  account : 

Fain  would  mine  eyes  be  witness  with  mine  ears, 

To  give  their  censure  of  these  rare  reports. 

Enter  Messenger  and  Talbot. 

Mess.  Madam, 
According  as  your  ladyship  desir'd. 
By  message  crav'd,  so  is  Lord  Talbot  come. 

Count.  And  he  is  welcome.     What !  is  this  the  man  } 

Mess.  Madam,  it  is. 

Count.  Is  this  the  scourge  of  France  } 

Is  this  the  Talbot,  so  much  fear'd  abroad, 
That  with  his  name  the  mothers  still  their  babes  ? 
I  see  report  is  fabulous  and  false  : 
I  thought  I  should  have  seen  some  Hercules, 
A  second  Hector,  for  his  grim  aspect 
And  large  proportion  of  his  strong-knit  limbs. 
Alas,  this  is  a  child,  a  silly  dwarf ! 
It  cannot  be,  this  weak  and  writhled  shrimp 
Should  strike  such  terror  to  his  enemies. 

I.  94.  CK.H.Vt.»4. 


Act/!.]  KING  HE\Ry  I'l.  [Scene  J II. 

Till.  Madam,  I  have  been  bold  to  trouble  you  ; 
But  since  your  ladyship  is  not  at  leisure, 
I'll  sort  some  other  time  to  visit  you.  {^Going, 

Count.  What  means  he  now?  —  Go  ask  him  whither 
he  goes. 

Mess.  Stay,  my  Lord  Talbot ;  for  my  lady  craves 
To  know  the  cause  of  your  abrupt  departure. 

Tal.  Marry,  for  that  she's  in  a  wrong  belief, 
I  go  to  certify  her  Talbot's  here. 

Re-enter  Porter  7vith  keys. 

Count.  If  thou  be  he,  then  art  thou  prisoner. 

Tal.  Prisoner  !  to  whom  .'' 

Count.  To  me,  blood-thirsty  lord  ; 

And  for  that  cause  I  train'd  thee  to  my  house. 
Long  time  thy  shadow  hath  been  thrall  to  me, 
For  in  my  gallery  thy  picture  hangs  : 
But  now  the  substance  shall  endure  the  like; 
And  I  will  chain  these  legs  and  arms  of  thine, 
That  hast  by  tyranny,  these  many  years. 
Wasted  our  country,  slain  our  citizens. 
And  sent  our  sons  and  husbands  captivate. 

Tal.  Ha.  ha,  ha  ! 

Count.    Laughest  thou,   wretch  }  thy  mirth  shall  turn 
to  moan. 

Tal.  I  laugh  to  see  your  ladyship  so  fond 
To  think  that  you  have  aught  but  Talbot's  shadow 
Whereon  to  practice  your  severity. 

Count.  Why,  art  not  thou  the  man  ? 

Tal.  I  am  indeed. 

Count.  Then  have  I  substance  too. 

Tal.  No,  no,  I  am  but  shadow  of  myself : 
You  are  deceiv'd,  my  substance  is  not  here ; 
For  what  you  see  is  but  the  smallest  part 
And  least  proportion  of  humanity  : 
I  tell  you,  madam,  were  the  whole  frame  here, 
It  is  of  such  a  spacious  lofty  pitch, 
Your  roof  were  not  sufficient  to  contain 't. 

Count.  This  is  a  riddling  merchant  for  the  nonce-, 
He  will  be  here,  and  yet  he  is  not  here  : 
How  can  these  contrarieties  agree  ? 

K.H.VI.25.]  I.QS. 


Act  //.]  THE  FIRS  J'  PA RT  OF  {Scene  II  : 

'Tal.  That  will  I  show  you  presently. 

\He  ivinds  a  horn.     Drums  strike  up;  then!\ 
a  peal  of  ordnance.       The  gates   being,  \ 
forced,  enter  Soldiers. 
How  say  you,  madam?  are  you  now  persuaded 
That  Talbot  is  but  shadow  of  himself  ? 
These  are  his  substance,  sinews,  arms,  and  strength, 
With  which  he  yoketh  your  rebellious  necks, 
Razeth  your  cities,  and  subverts  your  towns, 
And  in  a  moment  makes  them  desolate. 

Count.  Victorious  Talbot !  pardon  my  abuse  : 
I  find  thou  art  no  less  than  fame  hath  bruited. 
And  more  than  may  be  gather'd  by  thy  shape. 
Let  my  presumption  not  provoke  thy  wrath  ; 
For  I  am  sorry  that  with  reverence 
I  did  not  entertain  thee  as  thou  art.  ^ 

Tal.  Be  not  dismay'd,  fair  lady  ;  nor  misconstrue  . 

The  mind  of  Talboi,  as  you  did  mistake  . 

The  outward  composition  of  his  body.  . 

What  you  have  done  hath  not  offended  me :  , 

Nor  other  satisfaction  do  I  crave, 

But  only,  with  your  patience,  that  we  may  ,, 

Taste  of  your  wine,  and  see  what  cates  you  have ; 
For  soldiers'  stomachs  always  serve  them  well. 

Coutit.  With  all  my  heart ;  and  think  me  honored 
To  feast  so  great  a  warrior  in  my  house.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  IV.    London.    The  Temple-garden. 

Enter  the  Earls  of  Somerset,  Suffolk,  and  War-' 
WICK;  Richard  Plantagenet,  Vernon,  '  "    " 
and  a  Lawyer. 

Plan.  Great  lords  and  gentlemen,   what  means   this 
silence  ? 
Dare  no  man  answer  in  a  case  of  truth  } 

Suf.  Within  the  Temple-hall  we  were  too  loud  ; 
The  garden  here  is  more  convenient. 

Plan.  Then  say  at  once  if  1  maintain'd  the  truth; 
Or  else  was  wrangling  Somerset  in  th'  error.'* 

Suf.  Faith,  I  have  been  a  truant  in  the  law, 
And  never  yet  could  frame  my  will  to  it ; 
And  therefore  frame  the  law  unto  my  will. 

Sotn.  Judge  you,  my  Lord  of  Warwick,  then,  between  us. 

I.  1^6.  [k.h.vi.s6. 


Ac///.]  A'/.VG  f/EX/iV  J7.  [Scene  n-. 

War.  Between    two   hawks,   which    flies  the    higher 
pitch  ; 
Between  two  dogs,  which  hath  the  deeper  mouth ; 
Between  two  blades,  which  bears  the  better  temper; 
Between  two  horses,  which  doth  bear  him  best  ; 
Between  two  girls,  which  hath  the  merriest  eye  ;  — 
I  have,  perhaps,  some  shallow  spirit  of  judgment : 
But  in  these  nice  sharp  quillets  of  the  law. 
Good  faith,  I  am  no  wiser  than  a  daw. 

Plan.  Tut,  tut,  here  is  a  mannerly  forbearance  : 
The  truth  appears  so  naked  on  my  side, 
That  any  purblind  eye  may  find  it  out. 

Som.  And  on  my  side  it  is  so  well  apparel'd. 
So  clear,  so  shining,  and  so  evident. 
That  it  will  glimmer  through  a  blind  man's  eye. 

Plan.  Since  you  are  tongue-tied  and  so  loth  to  speak, 
In  dumb  significants  proclaim  your  thoughts  : 
Let  him  that  is  a  true-born  gentleman. 
And  stands  upon  the  honor  of  his  birth, 
If  he  suppose  that  I  have  pleaded  truth, 
From  off  this  brier  pluck  a  white  rose  with  me. 

Som.  Let  him  that  is  no  coward  nor  no  flatterer. 
But  dare  maintain  the  party  of  the  truth, 
Pluck  a  red  rose  from  off  this  thorn  with  me. 

War.  I  love  no  colors  ;  and,  without  all  color 
Of  base-insinuating  flattery, 
I  pluck  this  white  rose  with  Plantagenet. 

Siif.  I  pluck  this  red  rose  with  young  Somerset  ; 
And  say  withal,  I  think  he  held  the  right. 

Ver.  Stay,  lords  and  gentlemen,  and  pluck  no  more, 
Till  you  conclude  that  he,  upon  whose  side 
The  fewest  roses  are  cropp'd  from  the  tree, 
Shall  yield  the  other  in  the  right  opinion. 

Som.  Good  Master  Vernon,  it  is  well  objected  : 
If  I  have  fewest,  I  subscribe  in  silence. 

Plan.  And  I. 

Ver.  Then,  for  the  truth  and  plainness  of  the  casC; 
I  pluck  this  pale  and  maiden  blossom  here, 
Giting  my  verdict  on  the  white  rose'  side. 

Som.  Prick  not  your  fingers  as  you  pluck  it  off. 
Lest,  bleeding,  you  do  paint  the  white  rose  red, 
And  fall  on  my  side  so,  against  your  will. 
Ver.  If  I,  my  lord,  for  my  opinion  bleed, 

K.H.VI  27  ]  I.  97. 


A ct  //.]  t:i;:  firs  t  pa  rt  of  {Scent  /I : 

Opinion  shall  be  surgeon  to  my  hurt, 
And  keep  me  on  the  side  where  still  I  am. 
Sflff/.  Well,  well,  come  on  :  who  else? 
Law.   [/()  S(>/;i.]   Unless   my  study  and    my  books   be 
false. 
The  argument  you  held  was  wrong  in  you  ; 
In  sign  whereof  I  pluck  a  white  rose  too. 

Fla)i.   Now.  Somerset,  where  is  your  argument? 
SoDi.  Here  in  my  scabbard;  meditating  that 
Shall  die  your  white  rose  in  a  bloody  red. 

Phui.   Meantime  )Our  cheeks  do  counterfeit  our  roses; 
For  pale  they  look  with  fear,  as  witnessing 
The  truth  on  our  side. 

Som.  No,  Plantagenet, 

'Tis  not  for  fear;  but  anger  that  thy  cheeks 
Blush  for  pure  shame  to  counterfeit  our  roses, 
And  yet  thy  tongue  will  not  confess  thy  error. 
Plan.  Hath  not  thy  rose  a  canker,  Somerset  ? 
Som.  Hath  not  thy  rose  a  thorn,  Plantagenet  ? 
Piatt.  Ay,  sharp  and  piercing,  to  maintain  his  truth  ; 
Whiles  thy  consuming  canker  eats  his  falsehood. 

So»i.  Well,  I'll  find  friends  to   wear  my  bleeding  rose. 
That  shall  maintain  what  I  have  said  is  true, 
Where  false  Plantagenet  dare  not  be  seen. 

Plan.  Now,  by  this  maiden  blossom  in  my  hand, 
I  scorn  thee  and  thy  faction,  peevish  boy. 

Si(f.  Turn  not  thy  scorns  this  wav,  Plantagenet. 
Plan.  Proud  Pole,  I  will ;  and  scorn  both  him  and  thee. 
Suf.  I'll  turn  my  part  thereof  into  thy  throat. 
Som.  Away,  away,  good  William  de  la  Pole  I 
We  grace  the  yeoman  by  conversing  with  him. 

War.  Now,  by  God's  will,   thou  wrong'st  him,  Som- 
erset ; 
His  grandfather  was  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence, 
Third  son  to  the  third  Edward  King  of  England  : 
Spring  crestless  yeomen  from  so  deep  a  root  ? 
Plan.  He  bears  him  on  the  place's  privilege. 
Or  durst  not,  for  his  craven  heart,  say  thus. 

Som.  By  him  that  made  me,  I'll  maintain  my  words 
On  any  plot  of  ground  in  Christendom. 
Was  not  thy  father,  Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge, 
For  treason  executed  in  our  late  king's  days  ? 
And  by  this  treason,  stand 'st  not  thou  attainted, 

1. 98.  [K.H.V1.28. 


Act  1 1. \  KING  HENRY  VI.  \_Scene  IV. 

Corrupled,  and  exempt  from  ancient  g-entn'? 
His  trespass  yet  lives  guilty  in  thy  blood  ; 
And,  till  thou  be  restor'd,  thou  art  a  yeoman. 

Piatt.  My  father  was  attached,  not  attainted  ; 
Condemn'd  to  die  for  treason,  but  no  traitor; 
And  that  I'll  prove  on  better  men  than  Somerset, 
Were  growing  time  once  ripen 'd  to  my  will. 
For  your  partaker  Pole,  and  you  yourself, 
I'll  note  you  in  my  book  of  memory. 
To  scourge  you  for  this  apprehension  : 
Look  to  it  well,  and  say  you  are  well  warn'd. 

Som.  Ah,  thou  shalt  find  us  ready  for  thee  still ; 
And  know  us,  by  these  colors,  for  thy  foes, — 
For  these  my  friends,  in  spite  of  thee,  shall  wear. 

Plan.  And,  by  my  soul,  this  pale  and  angry  rose, 
As  cognizance  of  my  blood-drinking  hate, 
Will  I  forever,  and  my  faction,  wear. 
Until  it  wither  with  me  to  my  grave. 
Or  flourish  to  the  height  of  my  degree. 

Suf.  Go  forward,  and  be  chok'd  with  thy  ambition  ! 
And  so,  farewell,  until  I  meet  thee  next.  \Exit, 

Som.    Have    with    thee,     Pole. —  Farewell,     ambitious 
Richard.  {^Exit. 

Plan.  How  I  am  brav'd,  and  must  perforce  endure  it  ! 

Wa}-.  This  blot,  that  they  object  against  your  house, 
Shall  be  wip'd  out  in  the  next  parliament, 
Call'd  for  the  truce  of  Winchester  and  Gloster : 
And  if  thou  be  not  then  created  York, 
I  will  not  live  to  be  accounted  Warwick. 
Meantime,  in  signal  of  my  love  to  thee. 
Against  proud  Somerset  and  William  Pole, 
Will  I  upon  thy  party  wear  this  rose : 
And  here  I  prophesy, —  this  brawl  to-day. 
Grown  to  this  faction,  in  the  Temple-garden, 
Shall  send,  between  the  red  rose  and  the  white, 
A  thousand  souls  to  death  and  deadly  night. 

Plan.  Good  Master  \'ernon,  I  am  bound  to  you. 
That  you  on  my  behalf  would  pluck  a  flower. 

Ver.  In  your  behalf  still  will  I  wear  the  same. 

Law.  And  so  will  I. 

Plan,  Thanks,  gentle  sir. 
Come,  let  us  four  to  dinner :  I  dare  say 
This  quarrel  will  drink  blood  another  day.  {ExeunU 

K.M.vi.a9.]  I.  99. 


Act  //.)  T//  F.    nr  '-'T  r.'RT  OF  \Scfne  V. 

Scene  V.    A  room  in  tJie  Tower  of  London, 

Enter    Mortimer,  brought  in  in  a   chair  by  two 
Keepers. 

Mot .  Kind  keepers  of  my  weak  decaying  age, 
Let  dying  Mortimer  here  rest  himself. — 
Even  Hke  a  man  new-haled  from  the  rack. 
So  fare  my  limbs  with  long  imprisonment  ; 
And  these  gray  locks,  the  pursuivants  of  death, 
Nestor-like  aged,  in  an  age  of  care, 
Argue  the  end  of  Edward  Mortimer : 
These  eyes  —  like  lamps  whose  wasting  oil  is  spent  — 
Wax  dim,  as  drawing  to  their  exigent  : 
Weak  shoulders,  overborne  with  burdening  grief  ; 
And  pithless  arms,  like  to  a  wither'd  vine 
That  droops  his  sapless  branches  to  the  ground  : 
Yet  are  these  feet  —  whose  strengthless  stay  is  numb, 
Unable  to  support  this  lump  of  clay  ■ — 
Swift-winged  with  desire  to  get  a  grave. 
As  witting  I  no  other  comfort  have. — 
But  tell  me,  keeper,  will  my  nephew  come  ? 

First  Keep.    Richard  Plantagenet,  my  lord,  will  come: 
We  sent  unto  the  Temple,  to  his  chamber  ; 
And  answer  was  return'd,  that  he  will  come. 

Mor.  Enough  :  my  soul  shall  then  be  satisfied. — 
Poor  gentleman  !  his  wrong  doth  equal  mine. 
Since  Henry  Monmouth  first  began  to  reign, 
Before  whose  glory  1  was  great  in  arms. 
This  loathsome  sequestration  have  1  had  ; 
And  even  since  then  halh  Richard  been  obscur'd, 
Depriv'd  of  honor  and  inheritance. 
But  now,  the  arl)itrator  of  despairs, 
Just  death,  kind  umpire  of  men's  miseries, 
With  sweet  enlargement  doth  dismiss  me  hence: 
1  would  his  troubles  likewise  were  expir'd. 
That  so  he  might  recover  what  was  lost. 

Enter  Richard  Plantagenet, 

Fir  St. Keep.  My  lord,  your  loving  nephew  now  is  come, 
Mor.   Richard  Plantagenet,  friend,  is  he  come? 
Plan.  Ay,  noble  uncle,  thus  ignobly  us'd, 
Your  nephew,  late-despised  Richard,  comes. 

Mor.  Direct  mine  arms  I  may  embrace  his  neck, 

1.  loo.  [K.H.VI.30 


Act  II.  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scene  V. 

And  in  his  bosom  spend  my  latter  gasp  : 

O,  tell  me  when  my  lips  do  touch  his  cheeks, 

That  I  may  kindly  give  one  fainting  kiss. — 

And  now  declare,  sweet  stem  from  York's  great  stock, 

Why  didst  thou  say,  of  late  thou  wert  despis'd  ? 

Plan.  First,  lean  thine  aged  back  against  my  arm  ; 
And,  in  that  ease,  I'll  tell  thee  my  disease. 
This  day,  in  argument  upon  a  case. 
Some  words  there  grew  'twixt  Somerset  and  me; 
Among  which  terms  he  us'd  his  lavish  tongue. 
And  did  upbraid  me  with  my  father's  death  : 
Which  obloquy  set  bars  before  my  tongue. 
Else  with  the  like  I  had  requited  him. 
Therefore,  good  uncle,  for  my  father's  sake, 
In  honor  of  a  true  Plantagenet, 
A.nd  for  alliance'  sake,  declare  the  cause 
My  father,  Earl  of  Cambridge,  lost  his  head. 

Mor.  That  cause,  fair  nephew,  that  imprison'd  me. 
And  hath  detain 'd  me  all  my  (lowering  youth 
Within  a  loathsome  dungeon,  there  to  pine. 
Was  cursed  instrument  of  his  decease. 

Plan.  Discover  more  at  large  what  cause  that  was ; 
For  I  am  ignorant,  and  cannot  guess. 

Mor.  I  will,  if  that  my  fading  breath  permit. 
And  death  approach  not  ere  my  tale  be  done. 
Henry  the  Fourth,  grandfather  to  this  king, 
Depos'd  his  nephew  Richard, —  Edward's  son, 
The  first-begotten  and  the  lawful  heir 
Of  Edward  king,  the  third  of  that  descent  : 
During  whose  reign,  the  Percies  of   the  north. 
Finding  his  usurpation  most  unjust, 
Endeavor'd  my  advancement  to  the  throne  : 
The  reason  mov'd  these  warlike  lords  to  this 
Was,  for  that  —  young  King  Richard  thus  remov'd, 
Leaving  no  heir  begotten  of  his  body  — 
I  was  the  next  by  birth  and  parentage  ; 
For  by  my  mother  I  derived  am 
From  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence,  the  third  son 
To  King  Edward  the  Third  ;    whereas  he 
From  John  of  Gaunt  doth  bi'ing  his  pedigree. 
Being  but  fourth  of  that  heroic  line. 
But  mark  :  as.  in  this  haughty-great  attempt, 
They  labored  to  plant  the  rightful  heir, 

K.H.VI.3I.'l  1.   loi. 


A ct  //.]  THE  FIRS T  PART  OF  \Scens  V. 

I  lost  my  liberty,  and  they  their  lives. 
Long  after  this,  when  Henry  the  Fifth, 
Succeeding  his  father  Bolingbroke,  did  reign, 
Thy  father.  Earl  of  Cambridge,  then  deriv'd 
From  famous  Edmund  Langley,  duke  of  York, 
Marrying  my  sister,  that  thy  mother  was, 
Again,  in  pity  of  my  hard  distress, 
Levied  an  army,  weening  to  redeem 
And  have  install 'd  me  in  the  diadem  : 
But,  as  the  rest,  so  fell  that  noble  earl. 
And  was  beheaded.     Thus  the  Mortimers, 
In  whom  the  title  rested,  were  suppress'd. 

Plan.  Of  which,  my  lord,  your  honor  is  the  last. 

Mor.  True  ;  and  thou  seest  that  I  no  issue  have. 
And  that  my  fainting  words  do  warrant  death  : 
Thou  art  my  heir ;  the  rest  I  wish  thee  gather ; 
But  yet  be  wary  in  thy  studious  care. 

Plan.  Thy  grave  admonishments  prevail  with  me  : 
But  yet,  methinks,  my  father's  execution 
Was  nothing  less  than  bloody  tyranny. 

iMor.  With  silence,  nephew,  be  thou  politic : 
Strong-fixed  is  the  house  of  Lancaster, 
And,  like  a  mountain,  not  .to  be  remov'd. 
But  now  thy  uncle  is  removing  hence  ; 
As  princes  do  their  courts,  when  they  are  cloy'd 
With  long  continuance  in  a  settled  place. 

Plan.  O,  uncle,  would  some  part  of  my  young  years 
Might  but  redeem  the  passage  of  your  age  ! 

Mor.  Thou  dost,  then,  wrong  me, —  as  that  slaughterer 
doth 
Which  giveth  many  wounds  when  one  will  kill. 
Mourn  not,  except  thou  sorrow  for  my  good  ; 
Only,  give  order  for  my  funeral  : 
And  so,  farewell  ;  and  fair  be  all  thy  hopes, 
And  prosperous  be  thy  life  in  peace  and  war  !  [Dies, 

Plan.  And  peace,  no  war,  befall  thy  parting  soul! 
In  prison  hast  thou  spent  a  pilgrimage. 
And  like  a  hermit  overpass'd  thy  days. — 
Well,  I  will  lock  his  counsel  in  my  breast  ; 
And  whnt  I  do  imagine,  let  that  rest. — 
Keepcs,  convey  him  hence  ;  and  1  myself 
Will  see  his  burial  better  than  his  life. 

[Exeunt  Keepers,  hcarim^  oitf  flic  body  of  Mor  tinier. 

I.    I02.  •  [K.H.VI.32. 


Act  III. \  KIXG  HENRY  VI.  IScem  L 

Here  dies  the  dusky  torch  of  Mortimer, 

Chok'd  with  ambition  of  the  meaner  sort :  — 

And  for  those  wrongs,  those  bitter  injuries. 

Which  Somerset  hath  offer'd  to  my  house, 

I  doubt  not  but  with  honor  to  redress ; 

And  therefore  haste  I  to  the  parliainent, 

Either  to  be  restored  to  my  blood, 

Or  make  my  ill  th'  advantage  of  my  good.  {Exit, 

ACT  III. 

Scene  I.  London.    The  Parliament-house. 

Flourish.  Enter  King  HENRY,  EXETER,  Gloster,  War- 
wick, Somerset,  and  Suffolk;    the  Bishop  of 
Winchester,  Richard  Plantagenet,  and 
others.     Gloster  offers  tv  put  up  a  bill ; 
\^  I'^CHE&l'EK  snatches  it ,  and  tears  it. 

Win.  Com'st  thou  with  deep-premeditated  lines. 
With  written  pamphlets  studiously  devis'd, 
Humphrey  of  Gloster  ?   If  thou  canst  accuse. 
Or  aught  intend'st  to  lay  unto  my  charge, 
Do  it  without  invention,  suddenly  ; 
As  I  with  sudden  and  extemporal  speech 
Purpose  to  answer  what  thou  canst  object. 

Glo.  Presumptuous  priest  !    this  place  commands  my 
patience. 
Or  thou  shouldst  find  thou  hast  dishonor'd  me. 
Think  not,  although  in  writing  I  preferr'd 
The  manner  of  thy  vile  outrageous  crimes, 
That  therefore  I  have  forg'd,  or  am  not  able 
Verbatim  to  rehearse  the  method  of  m)"  pen  ; 
No,  prelate  ;  such  is  thy  audacious  wickedness. 
Thy  lewd,  pestiferous,  and  dissentious  pranks. 
As  very  infants  prattle  of  thy  pride. 
Thou  art  a  most  pernicious  usurer  ; 
Froward  by  nature,  enemy  to  peace  ; 
Lascivious,  wanton,  nure  than  well  beseems 
A  man  of  thy  profession  and  degree  ; 
And  for  thy  treachery,  what's  more  manifest, — 
In  that  thou  laid'st  a  trap  to  take  my  life. 
As  well  at  London-bridge  as  at  the  Tower  ? 
Beside,  I  fear  me,  if  thy  thoughts  were  sifted, 
K.H.V1.33.)  1. 103. 


A ct  ni.-]  TIT E  FIRS T  PART  OF  iScene  J. 

The  king,  thy  sovereign,  is  not  quite  exempt 
From  envious  maHce  of  thy  swelHng  heart. 

Win.  Gloster,  I  do  defy  thee. —  Lords,  vouchsafe 
To  give  me  hearing  what  I  shall  reply. 
If  I  were  covetous,  ambitious,  or  perverse. 
As  he  will  have  me,  how  am  I  so  poor .' 
Or  how  haps  it  I  seek  not  to  advance 
Or  raise  myself,  but  keep  my  wonted  calling  ? 
And  for  dissension,  who  preferreth  peace 
More  than  I  do, — ■  except  I  be  provok'd  ? 
No,  my  good  lords,  it  is  not  that  offends ; 
It  is  not  that  that  hath  incens'd  the  duke  : 
It  is,  because  no  one  should  sway  but  he  ; 
No  one  but  he  should  be  about  the  king; 
And  that  engenders  thunder  in  his  breast. 
And  makes  him  roar  these  accusations  forth. 
But  he  shall  know  I  am  as  good  — 

Gio.  As  good ! 

Thou  bastard  of  my  grandfather  !  — 

IVi'n.   Ay,  lordly  sir ;  for  what  are  you,  I  pray, 
But  one  imperious  in  another's  throne  } 

GIo.  Am  I  not  lord  protector,  saucy  priest } 

Win.  And  am  not  I  a  prelate  of  the  church  ? 

Glo.  Yes,  as  an  outlaw  in  a  castle  keeps, 
And  useth  it  to  patronage  his  theft. 

Win.  Unreverent  Gloster! 

Glo.  Thou  art  reverent 

Touching  thy  spiritual  function,  not  thy  life. 

Win.  This  Rome  shall  remedy. 

War.  Roam  thither,  then. 

So7n.  My  lord,  it  were  your  duty  to  forbear. 

War.   Ay,  see  the  bishop  be  not  overborne. 

Som.  Methinks  my  lord  should  be  religious, 
And  know  the  office  that  belongs  to  such. 

War.  Methinks  his  lordship  should  be  humbler; 
It  fitteth  not  a  prelate  so  to  plead. 

Som.   Yes,  when  his  holy  state  is  touch'd  so  near. 

War.   State  holy  or  unhallow'd,  what  of  that  .'* 
Is  not  his  grace  protector  to  the  king.^ 

Plan.   \aside.\   Plantagenet,  I  see,  must  hold  his  tongue, 
Lest  it  be  said,  "  Speak,  sirrah,  when  you  should  ; 
Must  your  bold  verdict  enter  talk  with  lords  .'  " 
Else  would  I  have  a  fling  at  Winchester. 

I.  104.  [K.H.V1.34. 


Acim.'l  KING  HENRY  VL  [Seen* /. 

K.  Hen.  Uncles  of  Gloster  and  of  Winchester, 
The  special  watchmen  of  our  English  weal, 
I    would  prevail,  if  prayers  might  prevail, 
To  join  your  hearts  in  love  and  amity. 
O  what  a  scandal  is  it  to  our  crown, 
That  two  such  noble  peers  as  ye  should  jar! 
Believe  me,  lords,  my  tender  years  can  tell 
Civil  dissension  is  a  vi|)erous  worm 
That  gnaws  the  bowels  of  the  commonwealth. 

{^A  noise  within,  "  Down  with  the  tawny-coats  !  " 
What  tumult's  this  ? 

War.  An  uproar,  I  dare  warrant. 

Begun  through  malice  of  the  bishop's  men. 

\_A  noise  again  within,  "  Stones  !  stones  !  " 

Enter  the  Mayor  of  London,  attended. 

May.  O,  my  good  lords,—  and  virtuous  Henry, — 
Pity  the  city  of  London,  pity  us  I 
The  bishop  and  the  Duke  of  Gloster's  men, 
Forbidden  late  to  carry  any  weapon, 
Have  fill'd  their  pockets  full  of  pebble-stones, 
And,  banding  themselves  in  contrary  parts. 
Do  pelt  so  fast  at  one  another's  pate, 
That  many  have  their  giddy  brains  knock'd  out : 
Our  windows  are  broke  down  in  everv  street. 
And  we,  for  fear,  compell'd  to  shut  our  shops. 

Enter,  skirmishing,  the  Serving-men   of  Gloster  and 
Winchester  with  Moody  pates. 

K.  Hen,  We  charge  you,  on  allegiance  to  ourself. 
To  hold  your  slaughtering  hands  and  keep  the  peace. — 
Pray,  uncle  Gloster,  mitigate  this  strife. 

Eirst  Serv.   Na\',  if  we  be 
Forbidden  stones,  we'll  fall  to't  with  our  teeth. 

See.  Serv.  Do  what  ye  dare,  we  are  as  resolute. 

[Skirmish  again, 

Glo.  You  of  my  household,  leave  this  peevish  broil, 
.And  set  this  unaccustom'd  fight  aside. 

Third  Serv.  Mv  lord,  we  know  your  grace  to  be  a  man 
Just  and  upright  ;  and,  for  vour  roval  birth. 
Inferior  to  none  hut  to  his  majesty  : 
And,  ere  that  we  will  suffer  such  a  prince, 
So  kind  a  father  of  the  commonweal, 

K.H.VI.3S.]  I.   105. 


A ct  ^l^  THE  F/RS T  PA RT  OF  [ Scene  I. 

To  be  disgraced  by  an  inkhorn  mate, 

We,  and  our  wives  and  children,  all  will  fight, 

And  have  our  bodies  slaughter'd  by  thy  foes. 

First  Seri).  A)-,  and  the  very  parings  of  our  nails 
Shall  pitch  a  field  when  we  are  dead.     \Sktr)nish  again, 

Glo.  Stay,  stay,  I  say  I 

An  if  you  love  me,  as  you  say  you  do. 
Let  me  persuade  you  to  forbear  awhile. 

K.  Hen.  O  how  this  discord  doth  afflict  my  soul  !  — 
Can  you,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  behold 
My  sighs  and  tears,  and  will  not  once  relent  ? 
Who  should  be  pitiful,  if  you  be  not } 
Or  who  should  study  to  prefer  a  peace. 
If  holy  churchmen  take  delight  in  broils  } 

JVar.  My  lord  protector,  yield  ;  —  )ield,  Winchester ;  — 
Except  you  mean,  with  obstinate  repulse. 
To  slay  your  sovereign,  and  destroy  the  realm. 
You  see  what  mischief,  and  what  murder  too, 
Hath  been  enacted  through  your  enmity  ; 
Then  be  at  peace,  except  ye  thirst  for  blood. 

IV/n.  He  shall  submit,  or  I  will  never  yield. 

G/o.  Compassion  on  the  king  commands  me  stoop  ; 
Or  I  would  see  his  heart  out,  ere  the  priest 
Should  ever  get  that  privilege  of  me. 

IVar.  Behold,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  the  duke 
Hath  banish'd  moody  discontented  fury, 
As  by  his  smoothed  brows  it  doth  appear  : 
Why  look  you  still  so  stern  and  tragical  ? 

Glo.  Here,  Winchester,  I  offer  thee  my  hand. 

K.  Hen.  Fie,  uncle  Beaufort  !  I  have  heard  you  preach 
That  malice  was  a  great  and  grievous  sin  ; 
And  will  not  you  maintain  the  thing  you  teach, 
But  prove  a  chief  offender  in  the  same  .'' 

War.  Sweet  king  !  —  the  bishop  hath  a  kindly  gird.  — 
For  shame,  my  Lord  of  Winchester,  relent  ! 
What,  shall  a  child  instruct  you  what  to  do  ? 

Win.  Well,  Duke  of  Gloster,  I  will  yield  to  thee  ; 
Love  for  thy  love,  and  hand  for  hand  I  give. 

Glo.  [aside]  Ay,  but,  I  fear  me,  with  a  hollow  heart.  — 
See  here,  my  friends  and  loving  countrymen  ; 
This  token  serveth  for  a  flag  of  truce 
Jietwixt  ourselves  and  all  our  followers  : 
So  help  me  (}od,  as  I  dissemble  not ! 

1.  106.  [k.h. VI.3& 


Act  nI^^  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  I. 

Win.  \aside\  So  help  me  God,  as  I  intend  it  not ! 

K.  Hen.  O  loving  uncle,  kind  Duke  of  Gloster, 
How  joyful  am  I  made  by  this  contract !  — 
Away,  my  masters  I  trouble  us  no  more  ; 
But  join  in  friendship,  as  your  lords  have  done. 

First  Serv.  Content  ;  I'll  to  the  surgeon's. 

Sec.  Sen'.  And  so  will  I. 

Third  Serv.  And   I   will  see  what  physic  the   tavern 
affords. 

[Exeunt  Serving-men,  Mayor,  &^l. 

War.  Accept  this  scroll,  most  gracious  sovereign, 
Which  in  the  right  of  Richard  Plantagenet 
We  do  exhibit  to  your  majesty. 

Gin.  Well    urg'd,  my    Lord  of   Warwick:  —  for,  sweet 
prince, 
An  if  your  grace  mark  every  circumstance, 
You  have  great  reason  to  do  Richard  right ; 
Especially  for  those  occasions 
At  Eltham-place  I  told  your  majesty. 

K.  Hen.  And  those  occasions,  uncle,  were  of  force: 
Therefore,  my  loving  lords,  our  pleasure  is. 
That  Richard  be  restored  to  his  blood, 

War.  Let  Richard  be  restored  to  his  blood  ; 
So  shall  his  father's  wrongs  be  recompens'd. 

Win.  As  will  the  rest,  so  willeth  Winchester. 

K.  Hen.  If  Richard  will  be  true,  not  that  alone, 
But  all  the  whole  inheritance  I  give 
That  doth  belong  unto  the  house  of  York, 
From  whence  you  spring  by  lineal  descent. 

Plan.  Thy  humble  servant  vows  obedience 
And  faithful  service  till  the  point  of  death. 

K.  Hen.  Stoop,  then,  and  set  your  knee  against  my 
foot  ; 
And,  in  reguerdon  of  that  duty  done, 
I  girt  thee  with  the  valiant  sword  of  York : 
Rise,  Richard,  like  a  true  Plantagenet, 
And  rise  created  princely  Duke  of  York. 

Plan.  And  so  thrive  Richard  as  thy  foes  may  fall ! 
And  as  my  duty  springs,  so  perish  they 
That  grudge  one  thought  against  your  majesty  ! 

All.  Welcome,  high  prince,  the  mighty  Duke  of  York! 

Soin.  [aside]   Perish     base    prince,    ignoble    Duke    of 
York! 

K.M.VI.37.]  I.  XC7. 


A  ct  in. }  THE  riRr.  T  r.-  \  R  T  of  {Scene  It. 

Glo.  Now  will  it  best  avail  your  majesty 
To  cross  the  seas,  and  to  be  crown'd  in  France; 
The  presence  of  a  kinjj  engenders  love 
Amongst  his  subjects  and  his  loyal  friends,  '' 

As  it  disanimates  his  enemies.  '^ 

K.  Hen.  When    Gloster   says  the  word,  King   Henry 
goes ; 
For  friendly  counsel  cuts  off  many  foes. 

Glo.  Your  ships  already  are  in  readiness. 

[F/oiirh/i.     Exeunt  all  except  Exeter. 

Exe.  Ay,  we  may  march  in  England  or  in  France, 
Not  seeing  what  is  likely  to  ensue. 
This  late  dissension  grown  betwi.xt  the  peers 
Burns  under  feigned  ashes  of  forg'd  love. 
And  will  at  last  break  out  into  a  Hame  : 
As  fester'd  members  rot  but  by  degrees, 
Till  bones  and  flesh  and  sinews  fall  away, 
So  will  this  base  and  envious  discord  breed. 
And  now  I  fear  that  fatal  prophecy 
Which  in  the  time  of  Henry  nam'd  th'e  Fifth 
Was  in  the  mouth  of  every  sucking  babe, — 
That  Henry  born  at  Monmouth  should  win  all,  ' 

And  Henry  born  at  Windsor  should  lose  all : 
Which  is  so  plain,  that  Exeter  doth  wish 
His  days  may  finish  ere  that  hapless  time.  \Exit. 

Scene  H.     France.     Before  Kouen.  '^ 

T 
Enter  La  Pucelle  disguised,  and  Soldiers  dressed  like- 
Countrymen,  with  sacks  upon  their  backs. 

Puc.   These  are  the  city-gates,  the  gates  of  Rouen, 
Through  which  our  policy  must  make  a  breach  : 
Take  heed,  be  wary  how  you  place  your  words  ; 
Talk  like  the  vulgar  sort  of  market-men 
That  come  to  gather  money  for  their  corn. 
If  we  have  entrance, —  as  I  hope  we  shall, — 
And  that  we  tind  the  slothful  watch  but  weak, 
I'll  by  a  sign  give  notice  to  our  friends, 
That  Charles  the  Dauphin  may  encounter  them. 

J'irst  Sol.  Our  sacks  shall  be  a  mean  to  sack  the  city,  ' 
And  we  be  lords  and  rulers  over  Rouen; 
Therefore  we'll  knock.  \_Knocks. 

Gttard  [within]  (Jui  va  Ij  ? 

I.  io8.  [K.H.VI.38. 


Act  III.]  KI^G  HEXRY  VI.  [Sctnr /J 

Puc.  Pay  sans,  pauvres  gens  de  France,— 
Poor  market-folks,  that  come  to  sell  their  corn. 

Guayd.   \openJng  the  gates\  Enter,  go  in  ;  the  market> 

bell  is  rung. 

Puc.  Now,    Rouen,    I'll    shake    thy  bulwarks    to   the 
'.  ht-t  ground.  S^La  Pucelle,  &^c.,  etiier  the  town. 

Enter   Charles,    the   Bastard    of   Orleans,    ALENgON, 
Reigxier,  and  Forces. 

Char.  Saint  Denis  bless  this  happy  stratagem  ! 
And  once  again  we'll  sleep  secure  in  Rouen. 

^(^i/.  Here  enter'd  Pucelle  and  her  practisants ; 
Now  she  is  there,  how  will  she  specify 
Wh^i'e  is  the  best  and  safest  passage  in  ? 
J.  Rezg.  By  thrusting  out  a  torch  from  yonder  tower; 
Which,  once  discern'd,  shows  that  her  meaning  is, — 
No  way  to  that,  for  weakness,  which  she  enter'd. 

Better  La  Pucelle  on  a  battlement,  holdvig  out  a  torch 
hurtling. 

Puc.  Behold,  this  is  the  happy  wedding-torch 
That  joineth  Rouen  unto  her  countrymen, 
But  burning  fatal  to  the  Talbotites. 

Bast.  See,  noble  Charles,  the  beacon  of  our  friend ; 
The  burning  torch  in  yonder  turret  stands. 

Char.  Now  shine  it  like  a  comet  of  revenge, 
A  prophet  to  the  fall  of  all  our  foes  ! 

Reig.  Defer  no  time,  delays  have  dangerous  ends  ; 
Enter  and  cry  "  The  Dauphin  !  "  presently. 
And  then  do  execution  on  the  watch. 

{^They  enter  the  to^vn.     Exit  La  Pucelle  abore. 

Alarums.     Enter,  from  the  town,  Talbot  a«</ English 
Soldiers. 

Tal.  France,  thou  shalt  rue  this  treason  with  thy  tears. 
If  Talbot  but  survive  thy  treachery. — 
Pucelle,  that  witch,  that  damned  sorceress, 
Hath  wrought  this  hellish  mischief  unawares, 
That  hardly  we  escap'd  the  pride  of  France. 

[^Exeunt  into  the  town, 
K.H.vi  39.]  1.109. 


Act  III.]  TH£  FIRST  PAkT  OP  [Scene//. 

A/arums  ;  excursions.    Enter,  from  the  town,  BedforDj 

brought  in  sick  in  a   chair,  with   Talbot,   '2>\5^- 
QWaViY,  and  the  English  Forces.     Then  enter  on 
the  walls  La  Pucelle,  Charles,   the  Bas- 
tard of  Orleans,  ALENgON,  a«i/ Reignier. 

Puc.  Good  morrow,  gallants  !  want  ye  corn  for  bread  ? 
I  think  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  will  fast, 
Before  he'll  buy  again  at  such  a  rate  : 
'Twas  full  of  darnel ;  —  do  you  like  the  taste  ? 

Bttr.  Scoff  on,  vile  fiend  and  shameless  courtesan  1 
I  trust  ere  long  to  choke  thee  with  thine  own, 
And  make  thee  curse  the  harvest  of  that  corn. 

Char.  Your  grace  may    starve,   perhaps,    before   that 
time. 

Bed.  O,  let  no  words,  but  deeds,  revenge  this  treason ! 

Piic.  What   will   you  do,   good  graybeard  ?   break    a 
lance. 
And  run  a  tilt  at  death  within  a  chair  } 

Tal.  Foul  fiend  of  France,  and  hag  of  all  despite, 
Encompass'd  with  thy  lustful  paramours  ! 
Becomes  it  thee  to  taunt  his  valiant  age, 
And  twit  with  cowardice  a  man  half  dead  ? 
Damsel,  I'll  have  a  bout  with  you  again. 
Or  else  let  Talbot  perish  with  this  shame. 

Puc.  Are  ye  so  hot,  sir .''  —  yet,  Pucelle,  hold  thy  peace  ; 
If  Talbot  do  but  thunder,  rain  will  follow. 

[  Talbot  and  the  rest  whisper  together  in  council. 
God  speed  the  parliament !  who  shall  be  the  speaker? 

Tal.  Dare  ye  come  forth  and  meet  us  in  the  field? 

Puc.  Belike  your  lordship  takes  us,  then,  for  fools. 
To  try  if  that  our  own  be  ours  or  no. 

Tal.  I  speak  not  to  that  railing  Hecat6, 
But  unto  thee,  Alengon,  and  the  rest ; 
Will  ye,  like  soldiers,  come  and  fight  it  out  ? 

Alen.  Signior,  no. 

Tal.  Signior,  hang  !  —  base  muleters  of  France  ! 
Like  peasant  foot-boys  do  they  keep  the  walls. 
And  dare  not  take  up  arms  like  gentlemen. 

Puc.  Captains,  away  !  let's  get  us  from  the  walls; 
For  Talbot  means  no  goodness  by  his  looks.— 
God  b'  wi'  you,  my  lord  !  we  came  up  but  to  tell  you 
That  we  are  here. 

{Exeunt  La  Pucelle,  &^c.,  frotn  the  walls. 

I.  no.  lK.H.VI.40k 


A.tiJJ.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Setae  I/. 

Tal.  And  there  will  we  be  too,  ere  it  be  long, 
Ur  else  reproach  be  Talbot's  greatest  fame  !  — 
Vow,  Burgundy,  by  honor  of  thy  house  — 
Prick'd  on  by  public  wrongs  sustain'd  in  France — • 
Either  to  get  the  town  again  or  die  ; 
And  I, —  as  sure  as  English  Henry  lives. 
And  as  his  father  here  was  conqueror, — 
As  sure  as  in  this  late-betrayed  town 
Great  Coeur-de-lion's  heart  was  buried, — 
So  sure  I  swear  to  get  the  town  or  die. 

Bur.  My  vows  are  equal  partners  with  thy  vows. 

Tal.  But,  ere  we  go,  regard  this  dying  prince. 
The  valiant  Duke  of  Bedford. —  Come,  my  lord. 
We  will  bestow  you  in  some  better  place. 
Fitter  for  sickness  and  for  crazy  age. 

Bed.   Lord  Talbot,  do  not  so  dishonor  me ; 
Here  will  I  sit  before  the  walls  of  Rouen, 
And  will  be  partner  of  your  weal  or  woe. 

Bur,  Courageous  Bedford,  let  us  now  persuade  you. 

Bed.  Not  to  be  gone  from  hence ;  for  once  I  read. 
That  stout  Pendragon,  in  his  litter,  sick. 
Came  to  the  field,  and  vanquished  his  foes  : 
Methinks  I  should  revive  the  soldiers'  hearts. 
Because  1  ever  found  them  as  myself. 

Tal.  Undaunted  spirit  in  a  dying  breast !  — 
Then  be  it  so  :  —  heavens  keep  old  Bedford  safe !  — 
And  now  no  more  ado,  brave  Burgundy, 
But  gather  we  our  forces  out  of  hand, 
And  set  upon  our  boasting  enemy. 

\_Exeunt,  into  the  town,  Burgundy,  Talbot, 
andforces,  leaving  Bedford  and  others. 

Alarums:  excursions  ;  in  one  of  which,  enter  Sir  JOHN 
FaSTOLFE  and  a  Captain. 

Cap.  Whither  away.  Sir  John  Fastolfe,  in  such  haste  ? 

Fast.  Whither  away !  to  save  myself  by  flight  : 
We  are  like  to  have  the  overthrow  again. 

Cap.  What  !  will  you  fly,  and  leave  Lord  Talbot  ? 

Fast.  Av, 

All  the  Talbots  in  the  world,  to  save  my  life.  [Exit. 

Cap.  Cowardly  knight  !  ill  fortune  follow  thee ! 

[^Exit  into  the  town, 
K.H.V1.41.]  I.  Ill, 


Act  III.]  THE  FIRS r  PART  OF  \Scen*  III. 

Retreat :    excin-sions.      Re-etiter,  from   the  town,    La 

PUCELLE,  ALENgON,  CHARLES,  &^C.,  and 

exeunt  flying. 

Bed.  Now,  quiet  soul,  depart  when  heaven  please, 
For  I  have  seen  our  enemies'  overthrow. 
What  is  the  trust  or  strength  of  foolish  man  ? 
They  that  of  late  were  daring  with  their  scoffs         '■  •"" 
Are  glad  and  fain  by  flight  to  save  themselves.       -•^'^  '^• 
[Dies,  and  IS  carried  off  in  his  Chttr". 
Alarmns.     Re-enter  Talbot,  BURGUNDY,  and  others. 

'Tal.  Lost  and  recover'd  in  a  day  again ! 
This  is  a  double  honor,  Burgundy : 
Let  heavens  have  glory  for  this  victory  !  ,  ^, 

Bur.  Warlike  and  martial  Talbot.  Burgundy  r,  \ 

Enshrines  thee  in  his  heart,  and  there  erects 
Thy  noble  deeds,  as  valor's  monuments.  ; 

Tal.  Thanks,  gentle  duke.    But  where  is  Pucelle  now  ? 
I  think  her  old  familiar  is  asleep; 

Now  where'sthe  Bastard's  braves  and  Charles  his  gleeks.' 
What,  all  amort  ?     Rouen  hangs  her  head  for  grief, 
That  such  a  valiant  company  are  fled. 
Now  will  we  take  some  order  in  the  town, 
Placing  therein  some  expert  officers  ; 
And  then  depart  to  Paris  to  the  king, 
Yox  there  young  Henr}'  with  his  nobles  lie.  ^^  , 

Bur.  What  wills  Lord  Talbot  pleaseth  Burgundv. .  '^ 
Tal.  But  yet,  before  we  go,  let's  not  forget      '  "'  ^  j    J 
The  noble  Duke  of  Bedford  late  deceas'd,  •»■  LiA 

But  see  his  exequies  fuUill'd  in  Rouen  : 
A  braver  soldier  never  couched  lance, 
A  gentler  heart  did  ne\'er  sway  in  court : 
But  kings  and  mightiest  potentates  must  die,         .  ^,^j^\u 
For  that's  the  end  of  human  misery.  SjExeum. 

Scene  III.     The  plains  near  Rouen. 

Enter  Charles,  the  Bastard  of  Orleans,  ALENgON,  La 
V\iQY^\.\.^,  and  Forces. 

Puc.  Dismay  not,  princes,  at  this  accident. 
Nor  grieve  that  Rouen  is  so  recovered  : 
Care  is  no  cure,  but  rather  corrosive. 
For  things  that  are  not  to  be  remedied. 
Let  frantic  Talbot  triumph  for  a  while, 

L  112.  [k.h.vi.4» 


Act///.]  K/NG  HENRY  V/.  {Sctn*  I/J. 

And  like  a  peacock  sweep  along  his  tail  ; 
IVe'll  pull  his  plumes,  and  take  away  his  train. 
If  Dauphin  and  the  rest  will  be  but  rul'd. 

Char.  We  have  been  guided  by  thee  hitherto, 
And  of  thy  cunning  had  no  diffidence  : 
One  sudden  foil  shall  never  breed  distrust. 

Bast.  Search  out  thy  wit  for  secret  policies, 
And  we  will  make  thee  famous  through  the  world. 

Akn.  We'll  set  thy  statue  in  some  holy  place, 
And  have  thee  reverenc'd  like  a  blessed  saint : 
Employ  thee,  then,  sweet  virgin,  for  our  good. 

Piic.  Then  thus  it  must  be;  this  doth  Joan  devise  ' 
By  fair  persuasions,  mix'd  with  sugar'd  words. 
We  will  entice  the  Duke  of  Burgundy 
To  leave  the  Talbot  and  to  follow  us. 

Char,  Ay,  marry,  sweeting,  if  we  could  do  that, 
France  were  no  place  for  Henry's  warriors  ; 
Nor  should  that  nation  boast  it  so  with  us. 
But  be  extirped  from  our  provinces. 

Alen.  For  ever  should  they  be  expuls'd  from  France, 
And  not  have  title  of  an  earldom  here. 

Puc.  Your  honors  shall  perceive  how  I  will  work 
To  bring  this  matter  to  the  wished  end.    [Drums  heard. 
Hark  !  by  the  sound  of  drum  you  may  perceive 
Their  powers  are  marching  unto  Paris-ward. 

An  English  inarch.    Enter,  and  pass  over  at  a  distance, 
Talbot  and  his  Forces. 

There  goes  the  Talbot,  with  his  colors  spread, 
And  all  the  troops  of  English  after  him. 

A  French  march.     Enter  the  Duke  of  BURGUNDY  <i«^ 
his  Forces. 

Now  in  the  rearward  comes  the  duke  and  his  : 
Fortune  in  favor  makes  him  lag  behind. 
Summon  a  parley  ;  we  will  talk  with  him. 

[  Trumpets  sound  a  parley. 

Char.  A  parley  with  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  ! 

Bur.  Who  craves  a  parley  with  the  Burgundy  .•' 

Buc.  The  princely  Charles  of  France,  thy  countryman. 

Bur.  What  say'st  thou,  Charles  ?  for  I    am  marching 
hence. 

Char.  Speak,  Pucelle,  and  enchant  him  with  thy  words. 

K.H.V1.43.]  I- 113- 


A ct  IIi:\  THE  FIRS T  PART  OF  [Scene  111. 

Puc.  Brave  Burgundy,  undoubted  hope  of  France ! 
Stay,  let  thy  humble  handmaid  speak  to  thee. 
Bur.  Speak  on  ;  but  be  not  over-tedious. 
Puc.  Look  on  thy  country,  look  on  fertile  France, 
And  see  the  cities  and  the  towns  defac'd 
By  wasting  ruin  of  the  cruel  foe  ! 
As  looks  the  mother  on  her  lovely  babe 
When  death  doth  close  his  tender  dying  eyes, 
See,  see  the  pining  malady  of  France  ; 
Behold  the  wounds,  the  most  unnatural  wounds, 
Which  thou  thyself  hast  given  her  woful  breast ! 
O,  turn  thy  edged  sword  another  way  ; 
Strike  those  that  hurt,  and  hurt  not  those  that  help ! 
One  drop  of  blood  drawn  from  thy  country's  bosom 
Should  grieve  thee  more  than  streams  of  foreign  gore : 
Return  thee,  therefore,  with  a  flood  of  tears, 
And  wash  away  thy  country's  stained  spots. 

Bur.  [aside]  Either  she  hath  bewitch 'd  me  with  her 
words. 
Or  nature  makes  me  suddenly  relent. 

Puc.  Besides,  all  French  and  France  exclaim  on  thee. 
Doubting  thy  birth  and  lawful  progeny. 
Who  join'st  thou  with,  but  with  a  lordly  nation. 
That  will  not  trust  thee  but  for  profit's  sake.? 
When  Talbot  hath  set  footing  once  in  France, 
And  fashion'd  thee  that  instrument  of  ill, 
Who  then  but  English  Henry  will  be  lord. 
And  thou  be  thrust  out  like  a  fugitive  .'' 
Call  we  to  mind,  and  mark  but  this  for  proof, — • 
Was  not  the  Duke  of  Orleans  thy  foe? 
And  was  he  not  in  England  prisoner.' 
But  when  they  heard  he  was  thine  enemy. 
They  set  him  free,  without  his  ransom  paid. 
In  spite  of  Burgundy  and  all  his  friends. 
See,  then,  thou  fight 'st  against  thy  countrymen, 
And  join'st  with  them  will  be  thy  slaughter-men. 
Come,  come,  return  ;  return,  thou  wandering  lord ; 
Charles  and  the  rest  will  take  thee  in  their  arms. 

B7(r.  [asufc]     I'm  vanquished;    these  haughty  words 
of  hers 
Have  batter'd  me  like  roaring  cannon-shot. 
And  made  me  almost  yield  upon  my  knees. — 
Forgive  me,  country,  and  sweet  countrymen  I 

1.  114.  (K.H.V1.44. 


Act///.]  KING  HENRY  V/.  iScine  IV. 

And,  lords,  accept  this  hearty  kind  embrace  :  ' 

My  forces  and  my  power  of  men  are  yours :  — 
So,  farewell,  Talbot;  I'll  no  longer  trust  thee. 

Puc.  Done  like  a  Frenchman, —  yAside\  turn,  and  turn 
again  ! 

Char.  Welcome,  brave  duke !  thy  friendship  makes  us 
fresh. 

Bast.  And  doth  beget  new  courage  in  our  breasts. 

Alen.  Pucelle  hath  bravely  play'd  her  part  in  this, 
And  doth  deserve  a  coronet  of  gold. 

Char.  Now  let  us  on,  my  lonis,  and  join  our  powers ; 
And  seek  how  we  may  prejudice  the  foe.  {^Exeunt 

Scene  IV'.     Paris.     A  room  in  the  palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Winchester,   York. 
Suffolk,  Somerset,  Warwick,  Exeter,  Ver- 
non, Basset,  &<'l.     To  MfWTALBOT  and 
some  of  his  Officers. 

Tal.  My  gracious  prince, —  and  honorable  peers, — 
Hearing  of  your  arrival  in  this  realm, 
I  have  awhile  given  truce  unto  my  wars. 
To  do  my  duty  to  my  sovereign  : 
In  sign  whereof,  this  arm  —  that  hath  reclaim 'd 
To  your  obedience  fifty  fortresses, 
Twelve  cities,  and  seven  walled  towns  of  strength. 
Beside  five  hundred  prisoners  of  esteem  — 
Lets  falls  his  sword  before  your  highness'  feet, 

^Kneeling. 
And  with  submissive  loyalty  of  heart 
Ascribes  the  glor)'  of  his  conquest  got 
First  to  my  God,  and  next  unto  your  grace. 

K.  Hen.  Is  this  the  Lord  Talbot,  uncle  Gloster, 
That  hath  so  long  been  resident  in  France  } 
'  Glo.  Yes,  if  it  please  your  majesty,  my  liege. 

K.  Hen.  Welcome,  brave  captain  and  victorious  lord  ! 
When  I  was  young, —  as  yet  I  am  not  old, — 
I  do  remember  how  my  father  said 
A  stouter  champion  never  handled  sword. 
Long  since  we  were  resolved  of  your  truth, 
Your  faithful  service,  and  your  toil  in  war; 
Yet  never  have  you  tasted  our  reward. 
Or  been  reguerdon'd  with  so  much  as  thanks, 

K.H.VI.4S.]  1. 115. 


A ct  rV.\  THE  FIRS T  PART  OF  iScefie  I. 

Because  till  now  we  never  saw  your  face : 
Therefore,  stand  up  ;  and,  for  these  good  deserts, 
We  here  create  you  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  ; 
And  in  our  coronation  take  your  place. 

YFlouris/i.     Exeunt  all  except  Vernon  and  Basset, 

Ver.  Now,  sir,  to  you,  that  were  so  hot  at  sea, 
Disgracing  of  these  colors  that  I  wear 
In  honor  of  my  noble  Lord  of  York, — 
Dar'st  thou  maintain  the  former  words  thou  spak'st  ? 

Bas.  Yes,  sir ;  as  well  as  you  dare  patronage 
The  envious  barking  of  your  saucy  tongue 
Against  my  lord  the  Duke  of  Somerset. 

Ver.  Sirrah,  thy  lord  I  honor  as  he  is. 

Bas.  Why,  what  is  he  }  as  good  a  man  as  York. 

Ver.  Hark  ye  ;  not  so  :  in  witness,  take  ye  that. 

\Strikes  him, 

Bas.  Villain,  thou.know'st  the  law  of  arms  is  such. 
That  whoso  draws  a  sword,  'tis  present  death, 
Or  else  this  blow  should  broach  thy  dearest  blood. 
But  I'll  unto  his  majesty,  and  crave 
I  may  have  liberty  to  venge  this  wrong  ; 
When  thou  shalt  see  I'll  meet  thee  to  thy  cost. 

Ver.  Well,  miscreant,  I'll  be  there  as  soon  as  you  ; 
And,  after,  meet  you  sooner  than  you  would.       [Exeunt. 

ACT   IV. 

Scene  I.    Pan's.    A  room  of  state  in  the  palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Exeter,  York,  Suf- 
folk, Somerset,  Winchester,  Vernon. 
Warwick,  Talbot,  the  Governor  of 
Paris,  a}i.d  others. 

Glo.  Lord  bishop,  set  the  crown  u])on  his  head. 

Win.  God  save  King  Henry,  of  that  name  the  sixth  ! 

Glo.  Now,  governor  of  Paris,  take  your  oath, — 

[Got'ernor  kit  eels. 
That  you  elect  no  other  king  but  him  ; 
Esteem  none  friends  but  such  as  are  his  friends, 
And  none  your  foes  but  such  as  shall  pretend 
Malicious  practices  against  his  state  : 
This  shall  ye  do,  so  help  you  righteous  God  ! 

[Exeunt  Go7>ernor  and  his  Train, 

Lti6.  [K.H.V1.46. 


Act  IF.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  iSetnt  I. 

Enter  Sir  JOHN  Fastolfe. 

Fast.  My  gracious  sovereign,  as  I  rode  from  Calais. 
To  haste  unto  your  coronation, 
A  letter  was  deliver'd  to  my  hands. 
Writ  to  your  grace  from  the  I3uke  of  Burgundy. 

\^Present27ig  it. 

Tal.  Shame  to  the  Duke  of  Burgundy  and  thee  ! 
I  vow'd,  base  knight,  when  I  did  meet  thee  next, 
To  tear  the  garter  from  thy  cra\'en's  leg, —  \P lucks  it  off. 
Which  I  have  done, — 'because  unworthily 
Thou  wast  installed  in  that  high  degree. — 
Pardon  me,  princely  Henry,  and  the  rest  : 
This  dastard,  at  the  battle  of  Patay, 
When  but  in  all  I  was  six  thousand  strong, 
And  that  the  French  were  almost  ten  to  one,— 
Before  we  met,  or  that  a  stroke  was  given, 
Like  to  a  trusty  squire,  did  run  away  : 
In  which  assault  we  lost  twelve  hundred  men ; 
Myself,  and  divers  gentlemen  beside. 
Were  there  surpris'd  and  taken  prisoners. 
Then  judge,  great  lords,  if  I  have  done  amiss  ; 
Or  whether  that  such  cowards  ought  to  wear 
This  ornament  of  knighthood,  yea  or  no. 

Glo.  To  say  the  truth,  this  fact  was  infamous. 
And  ill  beseeming  any  common  man, 
Much  more  a  knight,  a  captain,  and  a  leader. 

Tal.  When  first  this  order  was  ordain'd,  my  lords. 
Knights  of  the  Garter  were  of  noble  birth. 
Valiant  and  virtuous,  full  of  haughty  courage. 
Such  as  were  grown  to  credit  by  the  wars ; 
Not  fearing  death,  nor  shrinking  for  distress. 
But  always  resolute  in  most  extremes. 
He,  then,  that  is  not  furnish'd  in  this  sort 
Doth  but  usurp  the  sacred  name  of  knight. 
Profaning  this  most  honorable  order, 
And  should  —  if  I  were  worthy  to  be  judge  — 
Be  quite  degraded,  like  a  hedge-born  swain 
That  doth  presume  to  boast  of  gentle  blood. 

K.  Hen.  Stain  to   thy    countrymen,    thou    hear'st   thy 
doom  ! 
Be  packing,  therefore,  thou  that  wast  a  knight  : 
Henceforth  we  banish  thee,  on  pain  of  death. —       -  ^.'--^ 

\^Exit  Fastolfe, 
K.H.V1.47.]  I.  117. 


ActlKI  THE  FlRS'l   I-AkT  OF  [Scene/. 

And  now,  my  lord  protector,  view  the  letter 
Sent  from  our  uncle  Duke  of  liurgundy. 

Glo.  What  means  his  grace,  that  he  hath  chang'd  his 
style  ?  [  Viewing  t/ie  superscription. 

No  more  but,  plain  and  bluntly,  "  To  the  King  "  ? 
Hath  he  forgot  he  is  his  sovereign  ? 
Or  doth  this  churlish  superscription 
Pretend  some  alteration  in  good  will  ? 
What's  here  ?—  ^Reads']  "  I  have,  upon  especial  cause, — 
Mov'd  with  compassion  of  my  couTitr)''s  wreck. 
Together  with  the  pitiful  complaints 
Of  such  as  your  oppression  feeds  upon, — 
Forsaken  your  pernicious  faction. 
And  join'd  with  Charles,  the  rightful  King  of  France." 

0  monstrous  treachery  !  can  this  be  so, — 
That  in  alliance,  amity,  and  oaths. 

There  should  be  found  such  false  dissembling  guile  ? 

K,  Hen.  What !  doth  my  uncle  Burgundy  revolt  ? 

Glo.  He  doth,  my  lord ;  and  is  become  your  foe, 

K.  Hen.  Is  that  the  worst  this  letter  doth  contain  ? 

Glo.  It  is  the  worst,  and  all,  my  lord,  he  writes. 

K.  Hen.  Why,  then.  Lord  Talbot  there  shall  talk  with 
him, 
And  give  him  chastisement  for  this  abuse. — 
My  lord,  how  say  you  .''  are  you  not  content  ? 

Tal.  Content,  my  liege!  yes,  but  that  I'm  prevented, 

1  should  have  begg'd  I  might  have  been  employ'd. 

K.  Hen.  Then  gather  strength,  and   march   unto  him 
straight : 
Let  him  perceive  how  ill  we  brook  his  treason. 
And  what  offense  it  is  to  flout  his  friends. 

Tal.  I  go,  my  lord  ;  in  heart  desiring  siill 
You  may  behold  confusion  of  your  foes.  [Exit. 

Enter  VERNON  and  Basset. 

Ver.  Grant  me  the  combat,  gracious  sovereign  ! 

Bas.  And  me,  my  lord,  grant  me  the  combat  too  ! 

York.  This  is  my  servant :  hear  him,  noble  prince  ! 

Som.  And  this  is  mine  :  sweet  Henry,  favor  him  I 

K.  Hen.  Be  patient,  lords ;    and  give  them   leave   to 
speak. — 
Say,  gentlemen,  what  makes  you  thus  exclaim  ? 
And  wherefore  crave  you  combat ;  or  with  whom.'' 

I.  Ii8.  [K.H.VI.48. 


A<:i/K]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  t. 

Ver.  With  him,  my  lord  ;  for  he  hath  done  me  wrong. 

Bas.  And  I  with  him  ;  for  he  hath  done  me  wrong. 

K.  Hen.  What  is  that  wrong  whereof  you  both  com- 
plain ? 
First  let  me  know,  and  then  I'll  answer  you. 

Bas.  Crossing  the  sea  from  England  into  France, 
This  fellow  here,  with  envious  carping  tongue, 
Upbraided  me  about  the  rose  I  wear ; 
Saying,  the  sanguine  ci)lor  of  the  leaves 
Did  represent  my  master's  blushing  cheeks, 
When  stul)bornly  he  did  repugn  the  truth 
About  a  certain  question  in  the  law 
Argu'd  betwixt  the  Duke  of  York  and  him  ; 
With  other  vile  and  ignominious  terms  : 
In  confutation  of  which  rude  reproach, 
And  in  defense  of  .my  lord's  worthiness, 
I  crave  the  benefit  of  law  of  arms. 

Ver.  And  that  is  my  petition,  noble  lord  : 
For  though  he  seem  with  forged  quaint  conceit 
To  set  a  gloss  upon  his  bold  intent, 
Yet  know,  my  lord,  I  was  provok'd  by  him  ; 
And  he  first  took  exceptions  at  this  badge. 
Pronouncing  that  the  paleness  of  this  flower 
Bewray'd  the  faintness  of  my  master's  heart, 

York.  Will  not  this  malice,  Somerset,  be  left .' 

Som.  Your  private  grudge,  my  Lord  of  York,  will  out. 
Though  ne'er  so  cunningly  you  smother  it. 

K.  Hen,  Good  Lord,  what  madness  rules  in  brain-sick 
men. 
When  for  so  elight  and  frivolous  a  cause 
Such  factious  emulations  shall  arise  !  — • 
Good  cousins  both,  of  York  and  Somerset, 
Quiet  yourselves,  I  pray,  and  be  at  peace, 

York,  Let  this  dissension  first  be  tried  by  fight, 
And  then  your  highness  shall  command  a  peace. 

Som,  The  quarrel  toucheth  none  but  us  alone ; 
Betwixt  ourselves  let  us  decide  it,  then. 

York.  There  is  my  pledge  ;  accept  it,  Somerset. 

Ver.  Nay,  let  it  rest  where  it  began  at  first. 

Bas.  Confirm  it  so,  mine  honorable  lord. 

Glo.  Confirm  it  so  !     Confounded  be  your  strife! 
And  perish  ye,  with  vour  audacious  prate! 
Presumptuous  vassals,  are  you  not  asham'd 
K.H.V1.49.]  1. 119. 


A ct  IV.1  THE  FIRS  T  PA  K  T  OF  {Scene  1 

IVith  this  immodest  clamorous  outrage 
To  trouble  aad  disturb  the  king  and  us  ?  — 
And  you,  my  lords,—  methinks  you  do  not  well 
To  bear  with  their  per\erse  objections; 
Much  less  to  take  occasion  from  their  mouths 
To  raise  a  mutiny  betwixt  yourselves  : 
Let  me  persuade  you  take  a  better  course. 

Exe.    It   grieves    his    highness :  —  good  my   lords,  be 
friends. 

K.  Hen.  Come  hither,  you  that  would  be  combatants  • 
Henceforth  I  charge  you,  as  you  love  our  favor, 
Quite  to  forget  this  quarrel  and  the  cause. — 
And  you,  my  lords,  remember  where  we  are ; 
In  France,  amongst  a  fickle  wavering  nation  ; 
If  they  perceive  dissension  in  our  looks, 
And  that  within  ourselves  we  disagree,  _ 
How  will  their  grudging  stomachs  be  provok'd 
To  willful  disobedience,  and  rebel ! 
Beside,  what  infamy  will  there  arise. 
When  foreign  princes  shall  be  certified 
That  for  a  toy,  a  thing  of  no  regard. 
King  Henry's  peers  and  chief  nobility 
Destroy'd  themselves,  and  lost  the  realm  of  France  ! 
O,  think  upon  the  conquest  of  my  father; 
My  tender  years  ;  and  let  us  not  forego 
That  for  a  trifle  that  was  bought  with  blood  ! 
Let  me  be  umpire  in  this  doubtful  strife. 
I  see  no  reason,  if  I  wear  this  rose 

{^Putting  on  a  red  rose. 
That  any  one  should  therefore  be  suspicious 
I  more  incline  to  Somerset  than  York  : 
Both  are  my  kinsmen,  and  I  love  them  both  : 
As  well  they  may  upbraid  me  with  my  crown. 
Because,  forsooth,  the  King  of  Scots  is  crown'd. 
But  your  discretions  better  can  persuade 
Than  I  am  able  to  instruct  or  teach  : 
And  therefore,  as  we  hither  came  in  peace, 
So  let  us  still  continue  peace  and  love. — 
Cousin  of  York,  we  institute  your  grace 
To  be  our  regent  in  these  parts  of  France  :  — 
And,  good  my  lord  of  Somerset,  unite 
Your  troops  of  horsemen  with  his  bands  of  foot ;  — 
And,  like  true  subjects,  sons  of  your  progenitors, 

I.  120.  [K.H.V1.50. 


Act/P'.]  KING  HENRY  Vl.  \,Sc*m  11. 

Go  cheerfully  together,  and  digest 

Your  angry  choler  on  your  enemies. 

Ourself,  my  lord  protector,  and  the  rest, 

After  some  respite,  will  return  to  Calais ; 

From  thence  to  England  ;  where  1  hope  ere  long 

To  be  presented,  by  your  victories, 

With  Charles,  Alengon,  and  that  traitorous  rout. 

{F/ouris/i.    Exeunt  Khtg  Henry,  Glostcr,  Somer- 
set,  Winchester,  Siiffolk,  and  Basset. 

War.  My  Lord  of  York,  1  promise  \ou,  the  king 
Prettily,  methought,  did  play  the  orator. 

York.  And  so  he  did  ;  but  yet  1  like  it  not. 
In  that  he  wears  the  badge  of  Somerset. 

War.  Tush,  that  was  but  his  fancy,  blame  him  not ; 
I  dare  presume,  sweet  prince,  he  thought  no  harm. 

York.  And  if  I  wist  he  did, — -but  let  it  rest  ; 
Other  affairs  must  now  be  managed. 

[Exeunt  York,  Warwick,  and  Vernon. 

Exe.  Well  didst  thou,  Richard,  to  suppress  thy  voice  ; 
For,  had  the  passions  of  thy  heart  burst  out. 
1  fear  we  should  have  seen  decipher 'd  there 
More  rancorous  spite,  more  furious  raging  broils. 
Than  yet  can  be  imagin'd  or  suppos'd. 
But  howsoe'er,  no  simple  man  that  sees 
This  jarring  discord  of  nobility. 
This  shouldering  of  each  other  in  the  court, 
This  factious  bandying  of  their  favorites. 
But  that  he  doth  presage  some  ill  event. 
'Tis  much  when  scepters  are  in  children's  hands; 
But  more  when  envy  breeds  unkind  division  ; 
There  comes  the  ruin,  there  begins  confusion.  \Exit. 

Scene  II.    Before  Bourdeaux. 
Enter  Talbot,   7vit/i   his  Forces. 
Tal.  Go  to  the  gates  of  Bourdeaux,  trumpeter; 
Summon  their  general  unto  the  wall. 
Trumpet   sounds   a   parley.     Enter,  on    the  walls,   the 

General  of  the  French  Forces,  and  others. 
English  John  Talbot,  captains,  calls  you  forth. 
Servant  in  arms  to  Harry  King  of  England  ; 
And  thus  he  would, —  Open  your  city-gates  ; 
Be  humble  to  us ;  call  my  sovereign  yours, 
K.H.V1.51.]  1. 121. 


Act/y.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  \Scene  IK 

And  do  him  homage  as  obedient  subjects; 
And  I'll  withdraw  me  and  my  bloody  power: 
But,  if  you  frown  upon  this  proffer'd  peace. 
You  tempt  the  fury  of  my  three  attendants, 
Lean  famine,  quartering  steel,  and  climbing  fire; 
Who,  in  a  moment,  even  with  the  earth 
Shall  lay  your  stately  and  air-braving  towers. 
If  you  forsake  the  offer  of  our  love. 

Gen.  Thou  ominous  and  fearful  owl  of  death. 
Our  nation's  terror,  and  their  bloody  scourge  I 
The  period  of  thy  tyranny  approacheth. 
On  us  thou  canst  not  enter  but  by  death  ; 
For,  I  protest,  we  are  well  fortified. 
And  strong  enough  to  issue  out  and  fight : 
If  thou  retire,  the  Dauphin,  well  appointed. 
Stands  with  the  snares  of  war  to  tangle  thee : 
On  either  hand  thee,  there  are  squadrons  pitch'd. 
To  wall  thee  from  the  liberty  of  flight  ; 
And  no  way  canst  thou  turn  thee  for  redress, 
But  death  doth  front  thee  with  apparent  spoil, 
And  pale  destruction  meets  thee  in  the  face. 
Ten  thousand  French  have  ta'en  the  sacrament 
To  rive  their  dangerous  artillery 
Upon  no  Christian  soul  but  English  Talbot. 
Lo,  there  thou  stand  st,  a  breathing  valiant  man. 
Of  an  invincible  unconquer'd  spirit ! 
This  is  the  latest  glory  of  thy  praise 
That  I,  thy  enemy,  due  thee  withal ; 
For  ere  the  glass,  that  now  begins  to  run, 
Finish  the  process  of  his  sandy'hour. 
These  eyes,  that  see  thee  now  well-colordd. 
Shall  see  thee  wither 'd,  bloody,  pale,  and  dead. 

[Dfum  afar  off. 
Hark  !  hark  !  the  Dauphin's  drum,  a  warning  bell, 
Sings  heavy  music  to  thy  timorous  soul ; 
And  mine  shall  ring  thy  dire  departure  out. 

{Exeunt  General,  &^c.,/ro)n  the  walls. 

Tal.  He  fables  not ;  I  hear  the  enemy  :  — 
Out,  some  light  horsemen,  and  peruse  their  wings — 
O,  negligent  and  heedless  discipline! 
How  are  we  park'd  and  bounded  in  a  pale, — 
A  little  herd  of  England's  timorous  deer, 
Ma7'd  with  a  yelping  kennel  of  French  curs ! 

I.    122.  [k.H.VI.SS. 


^c//y.]  KING  HEXRV  VI.  {Scene  lit. 

If  Nve  be  English  deer,  be,  then,  in  blood  ; 

Not  rascal-like,  to  fall  down  with  a  pinch, 

But  rather,  moody-mad  and  desperate  stags, 

Turn  on  the  bloody  hounds  wiih  heads  of  steel, 

And  make  the  cowards  stand  aloof  at  bay  : 

Sell  every  man  his  life  as  dear  as  mine. 

And  they  shall  find  dear  deer  of  us,  my  friends. — 

God  and  Saint  George,  Talbot  and  England's  right, 

Prosper  our  colors  in  this  dangerous  fight !  \Exeuni. 

Scene  III.     Plains  in  Gascony. 
Enter  YORK,  with  Forces ;  to  him  a  Messenger. 

York.  Are  not  the  speedy  scouts  return 'd  again, 
That  dogg'd  the  mighty  army  of  the  Dauphin  ? 

Mess.  They  are  return'd,  my  lord  ;  and  give  it  out 
That  he  is  march'd  to  Bourdeaux  with  his  power. 
To  fight  with  Talbot:  as  he  march'd  along. 
By  your  espials  were  discovered 
Two  mightier  troops  than  that  the  Dauphin  led ; 
Which  join'd  with  him,  and  made  their  march  for  Bour- 
deaux. 

York.  A  plague  upon  that  villain  Somerset, 
That  thus  delays  my  promised  supply 
Of  horsemen,  that  were  levied  for  this  siege  I 
Renowned  Talbot  doth  expect  my  aid ; 
And  I  am  louted  by  a  traitor  villain, 
And  cannot  help  the  noble  chevalier : 
God  comfort  him  in  this  necessity ! 
If  he  miscarry,  farewell  wars  in  France. 

Enter  Sir  William  Lucy. 

Lucy.  Thou  princely  leader  of  our  English  strength. 
Never  so  needful  on  the  earth  of  France, 
Spur  to  the  rescue  of  the  noble  Talbot, 
Who  now  is  girdled  with  a  waist  of  iron. 
And  hemm'd  about  with  grim  destruction  : 
To  Bourdeaux,  warlike  duke  !  to  Bourdeaux,  York ! 
Else,  farewell  Talbot,  France,  and  England's  honor. 

York.  O  God,  that  Somerset  —  who  in  proud  heart 
Doth  stop  my  cornets  —  were  in  Talbot's  place  ! 
So  should  we  save  a  valiant  gentleman 
By  forfeiting  a  traitor  and  a  coward. 

K.H.VI.sv)  1. 123. 


Atrt/r.]  THE  FIR!iT  PART  OF  \SctKe  IV. 

Mad  ire  and  wrathful  fury  make  me  weep, 
That  thus  we  die,  while  remiss  traitors  sleep. 

Lucy.  O,  send  some  succor  to  the  distress'd  lord!  ''" 
York.  He  dies,  we  lose  ;  1  break  my  warlike  word ; 
We  mourn,  France  smiles ;  we  lose,  they  daily  get ; 
All  long  of  this  vile  traitor  Somerset. 

Lucy.  Then  God  take  mercy  on  brave  Talbot's  soul; 
And  on  his  son  young  John,  who  two  hours  since 
I  met  in  travel  toward  his  warlike  father ! 
This  seven  years  did  not  Talbot  see  his  son  ; 
And  now  they  meet  where  both  their  lives  are  done. 

York.  Alas,  what  joy  shall  noble  Talbot  have 
To  bid  his  young  son  welcome  to  his  grave.'* 
Away!  vexation  almost  stops  my  breath. 
That  sunder'd  friends  greet  in  the  hour  of  death. — 
Lucy,  farewell :  no  more  my  fortune  can, 
But  curse  the  cause  I  cannot  aid  the  man. — 
Maine,  Blois,  Poictiers,  and  Tours,  are  won  away. 
Long  all  of  Somerset  and  his  delay.     \Exit  with  Forces. 

Lucy.  Thus,  while  the  vulture  of  sedition 
Feeds  in  the  bosom  of  such  great  commanders. 
Sleeping  neglection  doth  betray  to  loss 
The  conquest  of  our  scarce-cold  conqueror. 
That  ever-living  man  of  memory, 
Henry  the  Fifth  :  —  whiles  they  each  other  cross, 
Lives,  honors,  lands,  and  all,  hurry  to  loss.  \^Exit. 

Scene  IV.     Other  plains  in  Gascony. 

Enter  Somerset,  with  his  Forces  ;  an  Officer  of  Tal- 
bot's with  him. 

Soin.    It  is  too  late  ;   I  cannot  send  them  now  : 
This  expedition  was  by  York  and  Talbot 
Too  rashly  plotted  ;  all  our  general  force 
Might  with  a  sally  of  the  very  town 
Be  buckled  with  :  the  over-daring  Talbot 
Hath  sullied  all  his  gloss  of  former  honor 
By  this  unheedful,  desperate,  wild  adventure : 
York  set  him  on  to  fight  and  die  in  shame, 
That,  Talbot  dead,  great  York  might  bear  the  name.    < 

Off.  Here  is  Sir  William  Lucy,  who  with  me 
Set  from  our  o'er-match'd  forces  forth  for  aid. 

1.   124.  [K.  H.VI.54 


Aci/yA  KING  HENRV  VI.  [Scene  V. 

Enter  Sir  William  Lucy. 

Som.  How  now,  Sir  William  !  whither  were  you  sent  ? 
■     Lucy.  Hither,  my  lord  ;  from   bought  and   sold   Lord 

Talbot ; 
Who,  ring'd  about  with  bold  adversity, 
Cries  out  for  noble  York  and  Somerset, 
To  beat  assailing  death  from  his  weak  legions  : 
And  whiles  the  honorable  captain  there 
Drops  bloody  sweat  from  his  war-wearied  limbs. 
And.  in  disvantage  lingering,  looks  for  rescue, 
You,  his  false  hopes,  the  trust  of  England's  honor. 
Keep  off  aloof  with  worthless  emulation. 
Let  not  your  private  discord  keep  away 
The  levied  succors  that  should  lend  him  aid. 
While  he,  renowned  noble  gentleman. 
Yields  up  his  life  unto  a  world  of  odds'. 
Orleans  the  Bastard,  Charles,  Burgundy, 
Alengon,  Reignier,  compass  him  about, 
And  Talbot  perisheth  by  your  default. 

Som.  York  set  him  on,  York  should  have  sent  him  aid. 

Liccy.  And  York  as  fast  upon  your  grace  exclaims ; 
Swearing  that  you  withhold  his  levied  horse,  '"'' 

Collected  for  this  expedition.  '  ' 

Som.  York  lies  ;  he  might  have  sent  and  had  the  horse  : 
I  owe  him  little  duty,  and  less  love  : 
And  take  foul  scorn  to  fawn  on  him  by  sending. 

Lucy.  The  fraud  of  England,  not  the  force  of   France, 
Hath  now  entrapp'd  the  noble-minded  Talbot : 
Never  to  England  shall  he  bear  his  life ; 
But  dies,  betray'd  to  fortune  by  your  strife. 

So)n.  Come,  go  ;  I  will  dispatch  the  horsemen  straight  ; 
Within  six  hours  they  will  be  at  his  aid. 

Lucy.  Too  late  comes  rescue  ;  he  is  ta'en  or  slain  : 
Fof  fly  he  could  not,  if  he  would  have  fled  ; 
And  fly  would  Talbot  never,  though  he  m.ight. 

Som.  If  he  be  dead,  brave  Talbot,  then,  adieu  ! 

Lucy.  His  fame  lives  in  the  world,  his  shame  in  you. 

\Exeunt. 

S€ENE  V.      77/,?  English  camp  near  Bourdeaux. ' 
"  *■  '  ^      Enter  Talbot  and  ]OYi^  his  son. 
Tal.  O  young  John  Talbot  !    I  did  send  for  thee 

KJi.VKSS.]  I.   125. 


Aet/K)  THE  FIRST  Jr ART  OF  \Seenl  v. 

To  tutor  thee  in  stratagems  of  war. 

That  Talbot's  name  might  be  in  thee  reviv'd 

When  sapless  age  and  weak  unable  limbs 

Should  bring  thy  father  to  his  drooping  chair. 

But, —  O  malignant  and  ill-boding  stars  I — • 

Now  thou  art  come  unto  a  feast  of  death, 

A  terrible  and  unavoided  danger : 

Therefore,  dear  boy,  mount  on  my  swiftest  horse ; 

And  I'll  direct  thee  how  thou  shall  escape 

By  sudden  flight  :  come,  dally  not,  be  gone. 

JoJui.  Is  my  name  Taibot?  and  am  1  your  son? 
And  shall  I  fly  ?     O,  if  you  love  my  mother. 
Dishonor  not  her  honorable  name, 
To  make  a  bastard  and  a  slave  of  me  ! 
The  world  will  say,  he  is  not  Taibot's  blood. 
That  basely  fled  when  noble  Talbot  stood. 

Tal.  Fly,  to  revenge  my  death,  if  I  be  slain. 
John.  He  that  flies  so  will  ne'er  return  again. 

Tal.  If  we  both  stay,  we  both  are  sure  to  die. 
John.  Then  let  me  stay  ;  and,  father,  do  you  fly: 
Your  loss  is  great,  so  your  regard  should  be ; 
My  worth  unknown,  no  loss  is  known  in  me. 
Upon  my  death  the  French  can  little  boast ; 
In  yours  they  will,  in  you  all  hopes  are  lost. 
Flight  cannot  stain  the  honor  you  have  won; 
But  mine  it  will,  that  no  exploit  have  done : 
You  fled  for  vantage,  every  one  will  swear; 
But  if  I  bow,  they'll  say  it  was  for  fear. 
There  is  no  hope  that  ever  I  will  stay. 
If,  the  first  hour,  I  shrink  and  run  away. 
Here,  on  my  knee,  I  beg  mortality. 
Rather  than  life  preserv'd  with  infamy. 

Tal.  Shall  all  thy  mother's  hopes  lie  in  one  tomb  ? 
John.  Ay,  rather  than  I'll  shame  my  mother's  womb. 

Tal.  Upon  my  blessing,  I  command  thee  go. 
John.  To  fight  I  will,  but  not  to  fly  the  foe. 

Tal.  Part  of  thy  father  may  be  sav'd  in  thee. 
John.  No  part  of  him  but  will  be  sham'd  in  me. 

Tal.  Thou  never  hadst  renown,  nor  canst  not  lose  it. 
John.  Yes,  your  renowned  n.ime  :  shall  flight  abuse  it.' 

Tal.  Thy  father's  charge  shall  clear  thee  from  that  stain. 
John.  You  cannot  witness  for  me,  being  slain. 
If  death  be  so  apparent,  then  both  fly. 

I.  126.  [K.H.V1.5S. 


Act/y.]  KING-  HENR  Y  I Y.  [Scene  VI. 

Tal.  And  leave  my  followers  here,  to  fight  and  die  ? 
My  age  was  never  tainted  with  such  shame. 

John.  And  shall  my  youth  be  guilty  of  such  blame? 
No  more  can  I  be  sever'd  from  your  side 
Than  can  yourself  yourself  in  twain  divide  : 
Stay,  go,  do  what  you  will,  the  like  do  I  ; 
For  live  I  will  not,  if  my  father  die. 

Tal.  Then  here  I  take  my  leave  of  thee,  fair  son, 
Born  to  eclipse  thy  life  this  afternoon. 
Come,  side  by  side  together  live  and  die  ; 
And  soul  with  soul  from  F' ranee  to  heaven  fly. 

\^Exeunt. 

Scene  VI.     A  field  of  battle. 

Alarums :  excursions,  wherein  Talbot's  Son  is  hemmed 
about,  and  Talbot  rescues  him. 

Tal.  Saint  George  and  victory  !  fight,  soldiers,  fight  : 
The  regent  hath  with  Talbot  broke  his  word. 
And  left  us  to  the  rage  of  P" ranee  his  sword. 
Where  is  John  Talbot .''  —  Pause,  and  take  thy  breath  ; 
I  gave  thee  life,  and  rescu'd  thee  from  death. 

John.  O,  twice  my  father,  twice  am  I  thy  son  ! 
The  life  thou  gav'st  me  first  was  lost  and  done, 
Till  with  thy  warlike  sword,  despite  of  fate. 
To  my  determined  time  thou  gav'st  new  date. 

Tal.  When  from  the  Dauphin's  crest  thy  sword  struck 
fire, 
It  warm'd  thy  father's  heart  with  proud  desire 
Of  bold-fac'd  victory.     Then  leaden  age, 
Quicken'd  with  youthful  spleen  and  warlike  rage, 
Beat  down  Alen^on,  Orleans,  Burgundy, 
And  from  the  pride  of  Gallia  rescu'd  thee. 
The  ireful  bastard  Orleans  — that  drew  blood 
From  thee,  my  boy,  and  had  the  maidenhood 
Of  thy  first  fight  —  I  soon  encountered, 
And,  interchanging  blows,  I  quickly  shed 
Some  of  his  bastard  blood  ;  and,  in  disgrace, 
Bespoke  him  thus, —  "Contaminated,  base, 
And  misbegotten  blood  I  spill  of  thine. 
Mean  and  right  poor,  for  that  pure  blood  of  mine 
Which  thou  didst  force  from  Talbot,  my  brave  boy  :"  — 
Here,  purposing  the  Bastard  to  dcstrov, 
K.H.V1.57.]  I.  127. 


Aci/y.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  [Sceua  r//. 

Came  in  strong  rescue.     Speak,  thy  father's  care, — 

Art  thou  not  weary,  John  ?  how  dost  thou  fare? 

Wilt  thou  yet  leave  the  battle,  boy,  and  i\y, 

Now  thou  art  seal'd  the  son  of  chivalry? 

Fly,  to  revenge  my  death  when  I  am  dead : 

The  help  of  one  stands  me  in  little  stead. 

O,  too  much  folly  is  it,  well  I  wot, 

To  hazard  all  our  lives  in  one  small  boat ! 

If  I  to-day  die  not  with  Frenchmen's  rage. 

To-morrow  I  shall  die  with  mickle  age: 

By  me  they  nothing  gain,  an  if  I  stay,— 

'Tis  but  the  shortening  of  my  life  one  day  . 

In  thee  thy  mother  dies,  our  household's  name, 

My  death's  revenge,  thy  youth,  and  England's  fame: 

All  these,  and  more,  we  hazard  by  thy  stay  ; 

All  these  are  sav'd,  if  thou  wilt  fly  away. 

John.  The  sword  of  Orleans  hath  not  made  mc  smart ; 
These  words  of  yours  draw  life-blood  from  my  heart  ; 
On  that  advantage,  bought  with  such  a  shame, — 
To  save  a  paltry  life,  and  slay  bright  fame, —  /• 

Before  young  Talbot  from  old  Talbot  fly. 
The  coward  horse  that  bears  me  fall  and  die  ! 
And  like  me  to  the  peasant  boys  of  France, 
To  be  shame's  scorn  and  subject  of  mischance ! 
Surely,  by  all  the  glory  you  have  won, 
An  if  I  fly,  I  am  not  Talbot's  son  : 
Then  talk  no  more  of  flight,  it  is  no  boot ; 
If  son  to  Talbot,  die  at  Talbot's  foot. 

Tal.  Then  follow  thou  thy  desperate  sire  of  Crete, 
Thou  Icarus  ;  thy  life  to  me  is  sweet : 
If  thou  wilt  fight,  fight  by  thy  father's  side : 
And,  commendable  prov'd,  let's  die  in  pride.        \Exeunt, 

Scene  VII.     Another  part  of  the  field. 

Alarums :  excursions.     Enter   TAhBOT  wounded,   sup-. 
ported  by  a  Servant.  ,. 

Tal.  Where  is  my  other  life  ?  —  mine  own  is  gone;  ^-« 
O,  where's  young  Talbot?  where  is  valiant  John? —       -^ 
Triumphant  death,  smear'd  with  cai)tivity. 
Young  Talbot's  valor  makes  me  smile  at  thee:  — 
When  he  perceiv'd  mc  shrink  and  on  my  knee, 
His  bloody  sword  he  brandish'd  over  me, 

I.  128,  [k  H.VI.58. 


And,  like  a  hungry  lion,  did  commence 
Rough  deeds  of  rage  and  stern  impatience; 
But  when  my  angry  guardant  stood  alone. 
Tendering  my  ruin,  and  assail'd  of  none, 
Dizzy-ey'd  fury  and  great  rage  of  heart 
Suddenly  made  him  from  my  side  to  start 
Into  the  clustering  battle  of  the  French ; 
And  in  that  sea  of  blood  my  boy  did  drench 
His  over-mounting  spirit  ;  and  there  died 
I\Iy  Icarus,  my  blossom,  in  his  pride. 
■  Sgrv.  O  my  dear  lord,  lo,  where  your  son  is  borne ! 

Enter  Soldiers,  bearing  the  body  ^  Joffisr  Talbot. 

Tal.  Thou  antic  death,  which  laugh'st  us  here  to  scorn. 
Anon,  from  thy  insulting  tyranny. 
Coupled  in  bonds  of  perpetuity, 
Two  Talbots,  winged  through  the  lither  sky, 
In  thy  despite,  shall  scape  mortality. — 
O  thou  whose  wounds  become  hard-fav^or'd  death, 
Speak  to  thy  father,  ere  thou  yield  thy  breath  ! 
Brave  death  by  speaking,  whether  he  will  or  no ; 
Imagine  him  a  Frenchman  and  thy  foe. — 
Poor  boy  !  he  smiles,  methinks,  as  who  should  say. 
Had  death  been  French,  then  death  had  died  to-day. — 
Come,  come,  and  lay  him  in  his  father's  arms  : 
My  spirit  can  no  longer  bear  these  harms. 
Soldiers,  adieu  !  I  have  what  I  would  have, 
,Now  my  old  arms  are  young  John  Talbot's  grave.  \Diex. 

Alarums.   Exeunt  Soldiers  and  Servant,  leaving  t fie  tzuo 
bodies.     Enter    Charles,    Alencon,    Bur- 
gundy, the   Bastard   of   Orleans,    La 
PUCELLE,  and  Forces. 

Char.  Had  York  and  Somerset  brought  rescue  in. 
We  should  have  found  a  bloody  day  of  this. 

Iliist.  How  the  young  whelp  of  "Talbot's,  rag-ing-wood. 
Did  flesh  his  puny  sword  in  Frenchmen's  blood  ! 

Piic.  Once  I  encounter'd  him,  and  thus  I  said, 
,''_Thou  maiden  youth,  be  vanquish'd  by  a  maid  :  " 
But,  with  a  proud  majestical  high  scorn. 
He  answer'd  thus,  "  Young  Talbot  was  not  born 
To  be  the  pillage  of  a  giglet  wench  : " 

,K.H.VI.ig.l  I.  129. 


ActJty.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  [Scene  y//. 

So,  rushing  in  the  bowels  of  the  French, 
He  left  me  proudly,  as  unworthy  fight. 

Biir.  Doubtless  he  would  have  made  a  noble  knight:  — 
See,  where  he  lies  inhearsed  in  the  arms 
Of  the  most  bloody  nurser  of  his  harms. 

Basf.  Hew  them  to  pieces,  hack  their  bones  asunder. 
Whose  life  was  England's  glory,  Gallia's  wonder. 

Char.  O,  no,  forbear!  for  that  which  we  have  fled 
During  the  life,  let  us  not  wrong  it  dead. 

Enter  SiR  William  Lucy,  attended ;  a  French  Herald 
preceding. 

Lucy.     Herald, 
Conduct  me  to  the  Dauphin's  tent,  to  know 
Who  hath  obtain 'd  the  glory  of  the  day. 

Char.  On  what  submissive  message  art  thou  sent  ? 

Lucy.  Submission,  Dauphin  !  'tis  a  mere  French  word  ; 
We  English  warriors  wot  not  what  it  means. 
I  come  to  know  what  prisoners  thou  hast  ta'en, 
And  to  sun'ey  the  bodies  of  the  dead. 

Char.  For  prisoners  ask'st  thou  }  hell  our  prison  is. 
But  tell  me  whom  thou  seek'st. 

Lucy.  Where  is  the  great  Alcides  of  the  field, 
Valiant  Lord  Talbot,  Earl  of  Shrewsbury, — 
Created,  for  his  rare  success  in  arms. 
Great  Earl  of  Washford,  Waterford,  and  Valence ; 
Lord  Talbot  of  Goodrig  and  Urchinfield, 
Lord  Strange  of  Blackmere,  Lord  Verdun  of  Alton, 
Lord  Cromwell  of  "U'ingfield,  Lord  Furnival  of  Sheffield, 
The  thrice-victorious  Lord  of  Falconbridge  ; 
Knight  of  the  noble  order  of  Saint  George, 
Worthy  Saint  Michael,  and  the  Golden  Fleece; 
Great  Marshal  to  Henry  the  Sixth 
Of  all  his  wars  within  the  realm  of  France? 

Puc.  Here  is  a  silly-stately  style  indeed  ! 
The  Turk,  that  two-and-fifty  kingdoms  hath. 
Writes  not  so  tedious  a  style  as  this. — 
Him  that  thou  magnifiest  with  all  these  titles, 
Stinking  and  tly-blown,  lies  here  at  our  feet. 

Lucy.  Is  Talbot  slain, —  the  Frenchmen's  only  scourge, 
Your  kingdom's  terror  and  black  Nemesis? 
O,  were  mine  eyeballs  into  bullets  turn'd, 
That  I  in  rage,  might  shoot  them  at  your  faces  ! 

1. 130.  [K.H.V1.60, 


O  that  1  could  but  call  these  dead  to  life ! 

It  were  enough  to  fright  the  reahn  of  France  : 

Were  but  his  picture  left  amongst  you  here, 

It  would  amaze  the  proudest  of  you  all. 

Give  me  their  bodies,  that  I  may  bear  them  hence. 

And  give  them  burial  as  beseems  their  worth. 

Puc.  I  think  this  upstart  is  old  Talbot's  ghost. 
He  speaks  with  such  a  proud-commanding  spirit. 
For  God's  sake,  let  him  have  'em  ;  to  keep  them  here. 
They  would  but  stink,  and  putrefy  the  air. 

Char.  Go,  take  their  bodies  hence. 

Lucy.  V\\  bear  them  hence  ; 

But  doubt  not  from  their  ashes  shall  be  rear'd 
A  phoenix  that  shall  make  all  France  afeard. 

Char.  So  we  be  rid  of  them,  do  what  thou  wilt.— 
And  now  to  Paris,  in  this  conquering  vein  : 
All  will  be  ours,  now  bloody  Talbot's  slain.         \Exeunt, 

ACT  V. 
Scene    I.     London.  A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  King  Henry,  Gloster.  and  Exeter. 

K.  Hen.  Ha/e  you  perus'd  the  letters  from  the  Pope, 
The  emperor,  and  the  Earl  of  Armagnac  } 

Glo.  I  have,  my  lord  :  and  their  intent  is  this, — 
They  humbly  sue  unto  your  excellence 
To  have  a  godly  peace  concluded  of 
Between  the  realms  of  England  and  of  France. 

K.  Hen.  How  doth  your  grace  affect  their  motion  ? 

Glo.  Well,  my  good  lord ;  and  as  the  only  means 
To  stop  effusion  of  our  Christian  blood. 
And  stablish  quietness  on  every  side. 

A'.  He7i.  Ay,  marry,  uncle ;  for  1   always  thought 
It  was  both  impious  and  unnatural 
That  such  immanity  and  bloody  strife 
Should  reign  among  professors  of  one  faith. 

Glo.  Beside,  my  lord,  the  sooner  to  effect 
And  surer  bind  this  knot  of  amity. 
The  Earl  of  Armagnac  —  near  kin  to  Charles, 
A  man  of  great  authority  in  France  — 
Proffers  his  only  daughter  to  your  grace 
In  marriage,  wi  h  a  large  and  sumptuous  dower. 

K.  Hen.  Marriage,  uncle  !  alas,   my  years  are  young  ! 
K.H.V1.61.]  1. 131. 


Aa  i:]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  iScene  I. 

And  tittf^r  is  my  study  and  my  books 
Than  wanton  dalliance  with  a  paramour. 
Yet,  call  th'  ambassadors  ;  and,  as  you  please. 
So  let  them  have  their  answers  every  one  : 
I  shall  be  well  content  with  any  choice 
Tends  to  God's  glory  and  my  country's  weal. 

Enter   a    Legate   and    two    Ambassadors,  with    WIN- 
CHESTER, >iow  Cardinal  Beaufort,  and  habited 
accordingly. 

Exe.  \aside^^  What !  is  my  Lord  of  Winchester  install'd, 
And  call'd  unto  a  cardinal's  degree  .'' 
Then  I  perceive  that  will  be  verified 
Her.ry  the  Fifth  did  sometime  prophesy, — 
"  If  once  he  come  to  be  a  cardinal. 
He'll  make  his  ca])  co-equal  with  the  crown." 

A.  Hot.  My  lords  ambassadors,  your  several  suits 
Have  been  consider'd  and  debated  on. 
Your  purpose  is  both  good  and  reasonable  ; 
And  therefore  are  we  certainly  resolv'd 
To  draw  conditions  of  a  friendly  peace  ; 
Which  by  my  Lord  of  Winchester  we  mean 
Shall  be  transported  presently  to  France. 

GIo.  And  for  the  proffer  of  my  lord  your  master, 
I  have  inform'd  his  highness  so  at  large, 
As,  liking  of  the  lady's  virtuous  gifts. 
Her  beauty,  and  the  value  of  her  dower. 
He  doth  intend  she  shall  be  England's  queen. 

K.  Hen.  [to  the  Amb.A^  In  argument  and  proof  of  which 
contract. 
Bear  her  this  jewel,  pledge  of  my  affection. — 
And  so,  my  lord  protector,  see  them  guarded. 
And  safely  brought  to  Dover  :  where,  inshipp'd, 
Commit  them  to  the  fortune  of  the  sea. 

[Exeunt  King  Henry,  Gloster,  Exeter,   and 
Ambassadors. 

Car.  Stay,  my  lord  legate  :  you  shall  first  receive 
The  sum  of  money  which  I  promised 
Should  be  deliver'd  to  his  holiness 
For  clothing  me  in  these  grave  ornaments. 

Leg.  I  will  attend  upon  vour  lordship's  leisure.  [Exit. 

Car.  Now  Winchester  will  not  submit,  I  trow. 
Or  be  inferior  to  the  proudest  peer. 

I.  132.  [K.H.V1.62. 


Act  V.\  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scenes  11.-1 11. 

Humphrey  of  Gloster,  thou  shalt  well  perceive 

That  neither  in  birth  or  for  authority 

The  bishop  will  be  overborne  by  thee  : 

I'll  either  make  thee  stoop  and  bend  thy  knee, 

Or  sack  this  country  with  a  mutiny.  {Exit. 

Scene  II.    France.    Plains  in  Anjou. 

Enter   CHARLES,  BURGUNDY,  ALEN90N,    the   Bastard 

of  Orleans,  Reignier,  La  Pucelle,  and  Forces 

marching. 

Char.  These  news,  my  lords,   may  cheer  our  drooping 
spirits  : 
'Tis  said  the  stout  Parisians  do  revolt. 
And  turn  again  unto  the  warlike  French. 

Alen.  Then  inarch  to  Paris,  royal  Charles  of  France, 
And  keep  not  back  your  powers  in  dalliance. 

Puc.  Peace  be  amongst  them,  if  they  turn  to  us ; 
Else,  ruin  combat  with  their  palaces  ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.    Success  unto  our  valiant  general, 
And  happiness  to  his  accomplices  ! 

Char.  What  tidings  send  our  scouts  ?  I  prithee,  speak. 

Mess.  The  English  army,  that  divided  was 
Into  two  parts,  is  now  conjoin 'd  in  one. 
And  means  to  give  you  battle  presently. 

Char.  Somewhat  too  sudden,  sirs,  the  warning  is; 
But  we  will  presently  provide  for  them. 

Bur.  I  trust  the  ghost  of  Talbot  is  not  there  : 
Now  he  is  gone,  my  lord,  you  need  not  fear. 

Puc.  Of  all  base  passions,  fear  is  most  accurs'd  ;  — 
Command  the  conquest,  Charles,  it  shall  be  thine  ; 
Let  Henry  fret,  and  all  the  world  repine. 

Chas.  Then  on,  my  lords ;  and  France  be  fortunate  ! 

\^Exeunt, 

Scene  III.     Before  A ngiers. 
Alarums:  excursions.     Enter  La  PuCELLE. 
Puc.  The  regent  conquers,  and  the  Frenchmen  fiy. — 
Now  help,  ye  charming  spells  and  periapts; 
And  ye  choice  spirits  that  admonish  me. 
And  give  me  signs  of  future  accidents, — 

K.H.vi,63.]  I.  1J3. 


Act  r.]  THE  FIRST  TART  OF  \Siene  III. 


[  Thunder, 


You  speedy  helpers,  that  are  substitutes 
Under  the  lordly  monarch  of  the  north, 
Appear,  and  aid  me  in  this  enterprise  ! 

Enter  Fiends. 

This  speed  and  quick  appearance  argues  proof 

Of  your  accustom'd  diligence  to  me. 

Now,  ye  familiar  spirits,  that  are  cull'd 

Out  of  the  powerful  legions  under  earth, 

Help  me  this  once,  that  France  may  get  the  field. 

[  They  walk  about ,  a  fid  speak  not. 
O,  hold  me  not  with  silence  over-long  ! 
Where  I  was  wont  to  feed  you  with  my  blood, 
I'll  lop  a  member  off,  and  give  it  you. 
In  earnest  of  a  further  benefit, 
So  you  do  condescend  to  help  me  now. 

[  They  hang  their  heads. 
No  hope  to  have  redress  ?  —  My  body  shall 
Pay  recompense,  it  you  will  grant  my  suit. 

[  They  shake  their  heads. 
Cannot  my  body  nor  blood-sacrifice 
Entreat  you  to  your  wonted  furtherance  } 
Then  take  my  soul, —  my  body,  soul,  and  all, 
Before  that  England  give  the  French  the  foil. 

[  They  depart. 
See,  they  forsake  me!     Now  the  time  is  come. 
That  France  must  vail  her  lofty-plumed  crest, 
And  let  her  head  fall  into  England's  lap. 
My  ancient  incantations  are  too  weak, 
And  hell  too  strong  for  me  to  buckle  with  : 
Now,  France,  thy  glory  droopeth  to  the  dust.  \Exit. 

Alarums.     Enter  French    and  English,  fighting.     La 

PUCELLE   and  YO'RK  fight  hand  to  hand :     La 

PUCELLE  is  taken.      The  French  fiy. 

York.  Damsel  of  France,  I  think  I  have  you  fast  : 
Unchain  your  spirits  now  with  spelling  charms. 
And  try  if  they  can  gain  your  liberty. — 
A  goodly  prize,  fit  for  the  devil's  grace  ! 
See,  how  the  ugly  witch  doth  bend  her  brows, 
As  if,  with  Circe,  she  would  change  my  shape ! 

Puc.  Chang'd  to  a  worser  shape  thou  canst  not  be. 

I.  134.  [K.H.V1.64. 


.4t7  /'.]  k'/XG  HEXRV  I' I.  iScene  111. 

York.  O,  Charles  the  Dauphin  is  a  proper  man  ; 
No  shape  but  his  can  please  your  dainty  eye. 

Puc.  A    plaguing     mischief     light     on    Charles    and 
thee  i 
And  may  ye  both  be  suddenly  surpris'd 
By  bloody  hands  in  sleeping  on  your  beds ! 

York.  V:\\  banning  hag,  enchantress,  hold  thy  tongue! 

Puc.  I  prithee,  give  me  leave  to  curse  awhile. 

York.  Curse,    miscreant,    when    thou    comest    to    the 
stake.  {^Exeunt. 

Alarums.     Enter  SUFFOLK,  leading  zn  Margaret. 

Suf.  Be  what  thou  wilt,  thou  art  my  prisoner. 

[Gazes  on  her. 

0  fairest  beauty,  do  not  fear  nor  fly  ! 

For  I  will  touch  thee  but  with  reverent  hands. 
And  lay  them  gently  on  thy  tender  side. 

1  kiss  these  fingers  for  eternal  peace. 

[Kissing  her  hand. 
Who  art  thou  .'  say,  that  I  may  honor  thee. 

Mar.  Margaret  my  name,  and  daughter  to  a  king. 
The  King  of  Naples, —  whosoe'er  thou  art. 

Suf.  An  earl  I  am,  and  Suffolk  am  I  call'd. 
Be  not  offended,  nature's  miracle. 
Thou  art  allotted  to  be  ta'en  by  me  : 
So  doth  the  swan  her  downy  cygnets  save, 
Keeping  them  prisoners  underneath  her  wings. 
Yet,  if  this  servile  usage  once  offend. 
Go,  and  be  free  again  as  .Suffolk's  friend. 

[She  turns  away  as  going, 
O,  stay  !  —  [Aside]   I  have  no  power  to  let  her  pass  ; 
My  hand  would  free  her,  but  my  heart  says  no. 
As  plays  the  sun  upon  the  glassy  streams, 
Twinkling  another  counterfeited  beam. 
So  seems  this  gorgeous  beauty  to  mine  eyes. 
Fain  would  I  woo  her,  yet  I  dare  not  speak  : 
ril  call  for  pen  and  ink,  and  write  my  mind  :  — 
Fie,  de  la  Pole  !  disable  not  thyself  ; 
Hast  not  a  tongue  .'  is  she  not  here  thy  prisoner  ? 
Wilt  thou  be  daunted  at  a  woman's  sight.'' 
Ay,  beauty's  princely  majesty  is  such. 
Confounds  the  tongue,  and  makes  the  senses  crouch. 

Mar.  Say,  Earl  of  Suffolk, —  if  thy  name  be  so, — 

K.H.VI.6S.]  I.   135. 


Act  y.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  yScene  lit. 

What  ransom  must  I  pay  before  I  pass  ? 
For  I  perceive  I  am  thy  prisoner. 

Suf.   \aside\  How  canst  thou  tell  she  will  deny  thy  suit 
Before  thou  make  a  trial  of  her  love  '' 

Mar.  Why  speak'st  thou  not  ?  what  ransom  must  1  pay  ? 

Suf.  \aside\  She's  beauti^'ul,  and  therefore  to  be  woo'd; 
She  is  a  woman,  therefore  to  be  won. 

Mar.  Wilt  thou  accept  of  ransom  —  yea  or  no  ? 

Suf.  \aside\   Fond  man,  remember  that  thou  hast  a 
wife  ; 
Then  how  can  Margaret  be  thy  paramour  } 

Mar.  I  were  best  to  leave  him,  for  he  will  not  hear. 

Suf.  [aside]  There  all  is  niarr'd  ;    there  lies  a  cooling- 
card. 

Mar.  He  talks  at  random  ;  sure,  the  man  is  mad. 

Suf.   [aside]  And  yet  a  dispensation  may  be  had. 

Mar.  And  yet  I  would  that  you  would  answer  me. 

Suf.  [aside]  I'll  win  this  Lady  Margaret.     For  whom? 
Why,  for  my  kin-g  :  tush,  that's  a  wooden  thing: 

Mar.  He  talks  of  wood  •  it  is  some  carpenter. 

Suf.  [aside]  Yet  so  my  fancy  may  be  satisfied, 
And  peace  established  between  these  realms. 
But  there  remains  a  scruple  in  that  too  ; 
For  though  her  father  be  the  King  of  Naples, 
Duke  of  Anjou  and  Maine,  yet  is  he  poor, 
And  our  nobility  will  scorn  the  match. 

Mar.  Hear  ye,  captain, —  are  you  not  at  leisure  ? 

Suf.  [aside]  It  shall  be  so,  disdain  they  ne'er  so  much  : 
Henry  is  youthful,  and  will  quickly  yield. — 
Madam,  I  have  a  secret  to  reveal. 

Mar.   [aside]  What  though  I  be  enthrall'd  .''  he  seems 
a  knight. 
And  will  not  any  way  dishonor  me. 

Suf.  Lady,  vouchsafe  to  listen  what  1  say. 

Mar.  [aside]  Perhaps  I  shall  be  rescu'd  by  the  French  ; 
And  then  I  need  not  crave  hi,,  courtesy. 

Suf.  Sweet  madam,  glw  me  hearing  in  ^  cause  — 

Mar.  [aside]  Tush,  women  have  been  captivate  ere  now. 

Suf.  I  prithee,  lady,  wherefore  talk  you  so  } 

Mar.  I  cry  you  mercy,  'tis  but  quid  for  quo. 

Suf.  Say,  gentle  princess,  would  you  not  suppose 
Your  bondage  happy,  to  be  made  a  queen  } 

Mar.  To  DC  a  queen  in  bondage  is  more  vile 

I.  136.  [k.h.vi.66. 


AeiV.'l  KING  HENRVVT.  [Scene  III. 

Than  is  a  slave  in  base  servility  ; 
For  princes  should  be  free. 

Suf.  And  so  shall  you, 

If  happy  England's  royal  king  be  free. 

Mar.  Why,  what  concerns  his  freedom  unto  me  ? 

Stcf.  I'll  undertake  to  make  thee  Henry's  queen  ; 
To  put  a  golden  scepter  in  thy  hand, 
And  set  a  precious  crown  upon  thy  head. 
If  thou  wilt  condescend  to  — 

Mar.  What  ? 

Suf.  His  love. 

Mar.  I  am  unworthy  to  be  Henry's  wife. 

Suf.  No,  gentle  madam  ;  I  unworthy  am 
To  woo  so  fair  a  dame  to  be  his  wife. 
And  have  no  portion  in  the  choice  myself. 
How  say  you,  madam, —  are  ye  so  content  ? 

Mar.  An  if  my  father  please,  I  am  content. 

Suf.  Then  call  our  captains  and  our  colors  forth  !  — 

[  Troops  come  forward. 
And,  madam,  at  your  father's  castle-walls 
We'll  crave  a  parley,  to  confer  with  him 

A  parley  sounded.     Enter  Reignier  on  the  walls. 

See,  Reignier,  see,  thy  daughter  prisoner ! 

Reig.  To  whom  ? 

Suf.  To  me. 

Reig.  Suffolk,  what  remedy  ? 

I  am  a  soldier,  and  unapt  to  weep 
Or  to  exclaim  on  fortune's  fickleness. 

Suf.  Yes,  there  is  remedy  enough,  my  lord  : 
Consent  —  and,  for  thy  honor,  give  consent  — 
Thy  daughter  shall  be  wedded  to  my  king  ; 
Whom  I  with  pain  have  woo'd  and  won  thereto  ; 
And  this  her  easy-held  imprisonment 
Hath  gain'd  thy  daughter  princely  liberty. 

Reig.  Speaks  Suffolk  as  he  thinks  .'' 

Suf  Fair  Margaret  knows 

That  Suffolk  doth  not  flatter,  face,  or  feign. 

Reig.  Upon  thy  princely  warrant,  I  descend 
To  give  thee  answer  of  thy  just  demand. 

Suf.  And  here,  my  lord,  I  will  expect  thy  coming. 

\^Exit  Reignier  from  the  walls. 
K.H.V1.67.]  1. 13,-, 


Act  K]  THE  FIRST  FART  OF  [Seene  III. 

Trumpets  sounded.     Enter  Reignier,  below. 

Reig.  Welcome,  brave  earl,  into  our  territories  : 
Command  in  Anjou  what  your  honor  pleases. 

Suf.   Thanks,  Reignier,  happy  for  so  sweet  a  child, 
Fit  to  be  made  companion  with  a  king  : 
What  answer  makes  your  grace  unto  my  suit  ? 

Reig.  Since  thou  dost  deign  to  woo  her,  little  worth 
To  be  the  princely  bride  of  such  a  lord, — 
Upon  condition  I  may  C|uietly 
Enjoy  mine  own,  the  counties  Maine  and  Anjou, 
Free  from  oppression  or  the  stroke  of  war, 
My  daughter  shall   be  Henr)'s,  if  he  please. 

Si(f.  That  is  her  ransom, —  I  deliver  her  ; 
And  those  two  counties  I  will  undertake 
Your  grace  shall  well  and  quietly  enjoy. 

Reig.  And  I  again,  in  Henry's  royal  name, 
As  deputy  unto  that  gracious  king, 
Give  thee  her  hand,  for  sign  of  plighted  faith. 

Siif.   Reignier  of  France.  I  give  thee  kingly  thanks. 
Because  this  is  in  traffic  of  a  king  :  — 
\ Aside]   And  yet.  methinks,  I  could  be  well  content 
To  be  mine  own  attorney  in  this  case. — 
ril  over,  then,  to  England  with  thu  news, 
And  make  this  marriage  to  be  solemniz'd. 
So,  farewell,  Reignier:  set  this  diamond  '^afe 
In  golden  palaces,  as  it  becomes. 

Retg.  I  do  embrace  thee,  as  I  would  embrace       "^ 
The  Christian  prince  King  Henry,  were  he  here. 

Mar,    Farewell,  my  lord :    good    wishes,   praise,    and 
prayers 
Shall  Suffolk  ever  have  of  Margaret.  [Going. 

Suj     Farewell,   sweet  madam  :    but,    hark  you.   Mar- 
garet,— 
No  pnncely  commendations  to  my  king  ? 

Mar.  Such  commendations  as  become  a  maid, 
A  virgin,  and  his  servant,  say  to  him. 

.Suf.  Words  sweetly  plac'd  and  modestly  directed. 
But,  madam,  I  must  trouble  you  again, — 
No  loving  token  to  his  majesty  ? 

Mar    Yes,  my  good  lord, —  a  pure  unspotted  heart, 
Never  yet  taint  with  love,  I  send  the  king. 

Suf.  And  this  withal.  [Kisses  her. 

1. 138.  [K.H.V1.6& 


Aet  y.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  IK 

Jfar.  That  for  thyself :  —  I  will  not  so  presume 
To  send  such  peevish  tokens  to  a  king. 

{^Exeunt  Reignier  and  Margaret. 

Suf.  O,  wert  thou  for  myself !  —  But,  Suffolk,  stay  ; 
Thou  mayst  not  wander  in  that  labyrinth  ; 
There  Minotaurs  and  ugly  treasons  lurk. 
Solicit  Henry  with  her  wondrous  praise  : 
Bethink  thee  on  her  virtues  that  surmount. 
And  natural  graces  that  extinguish  art ; 
Repeat  their  semblance  often  on  the  seas. 
That,  when  thou  com'st  to  kneel  at  Henry's  feet. 
Thou  mayst  bereave  him  of  his  wits  with  wonder,    {^Exit, 

Scene  IV.     Camp  of  the  Duke  of  York  in  Anjou. 
Enter  York,  Warwick,  and  others. 

York.  Bring  forth  that  sorceress  condemn'd  to  burn. 
Enter  La  Pucelle,  guarded,  and  a  Shepherd. 

Shep.  Ah,  Joan,  this  kills  thy  father's  heart  outright ! 
Have  I  sought  every  country  far  and  near. 
And,  now  it  is  my  chance  to  rind  the^out, 
Must  I  behold  thy  timeless-cruel  death .-' 
Ah,  Joan,  sweet  daughter  Joan,  I'll  die  with  thee  I 

Puc.  Decrepit  miser  !  base  ignoble  wretch  ! 
I  am  descended  of  a  gentler  blood  : 
Thou  art  no  father  nor  no  friend  of  mine. 

Shep.  Out,  out !  —  My  lords,  an  please  you,  'tis  not  so; 
I  did  beget  her,  all  the  parish  knows  : 
Her  mother  liveth  yet,  can  testify 
She  was  the  first  fruit  of  my  bachelorship. 

IVar.  Graceless  !  wilt  thou  deny  thy  parentage  ? 

York.  This  argues  what  her  kind  of  life  hath  been, — 
Wicked  and  vile  ;  and  so  her  death  concludes. 

Shep.  Fie,  Joan,  that  thou  wilt  be  so  obstacle  ! 
God  knows  thou  art  a  collop  of  my  flesh  ; 
And  for  thy  sake  havei  shed  many  a  tear : 
Deny  me  not,  I  prithee,  gentle  Joan. 

Puc.  Peasant,  avaunt  I  —  you  have  suborn'd   this  man, 
Of  purpose  to  obscure  my  noble  birth. 

Shep.  'Tis  true,  I  gave  a  noble  to  the  priest 
The  morn  that  I  was  wedded  to  her  mother. — 
Kneel  down  and  take  my  blessing,  good  my  girl. 
Wilt  thou  not  stoop  ?     Now  cursed  be  the  time 
1cH.v1.69.]  1. 139. 


Act  y.]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  \ Scene  IV. 

Of  thy  nativity  !     I  would  the  milk 

Thy  mother  gave  thee  when  thou  suck'dst  her  breast,  '-'^ 

Had  been  a  liule  ratsbane  for  thy  sake  I 

Or  else,  when  thou  didst  keep  my  lambs  a-field, 

I  wish  some  ravenous  wolf  had  eaten  thee  ! 

Dost  thou  deny  thy  father,  cursed  drab  ? 

O,  burn  her,  burn  her  !  hanging  is  too  good.  \^Extt. 

York.  Take  her  awaj- ;  for  she  hath  li\'d  too  long. 
To  fill  the  world  with  vicious  qualities. 

Puc.  First,  let  me  tell  you  whom  you  have  condemn'd't 
Not  one  begotten  of  a  shepherd  sv.ain, 
But  issu'd  from  the  progeny  of  kings ; 
Virtuous  and  holy  ;  chosen  from  above, 
By  inspiration  of  celestial  grace, 
To  work  exceeding  miracles  on  earth. 
I  never  had  to  do  w  ith  wicked  spirits : 
But  you, —  that  art  polluted  with  your  lusts, 
Stain'd  with  the  guiltless  blood  of  innocents, 
Corrupt  and  tainted  with  a  thousand  vices, — 
Because  you  want  the  grace  that  others  have. 
You  judge  it  straight  a  thing  impossible 
To  compass  wonders  but  by  help  of  devils. 
No,  misconceived  I  Joan  of  Arc  hath  been 
A  virgin  from  her  tender  infancy, 
Chaste  and  immaculate  in  very  thought ; 
Whose  maiden  blood,  thus  rigorously  effus'd, 
Will  cry  for  vengeance  at  the  gates  of  heaven. 

York.  Ay,  ay  :  —  away  with  her  to  execution  ! 

War.  And  hark  ye,  sirs ;  because  she  is  a  maid, 
Spare  for  no  fagots,  let  there  be  enow : 
Place  barrels  of  pitch  upon  the  fatal  stake. 
That  so  her  torture  may  be  shortened. 

Puc.  Will  nothing  turn  your  unrelenting  hearts.?  — 
Then,  Joan,  discover  thine  infirmity. 
That  warranteth  by  law  to  be  thy  privilege :  — 
I  am  with  child,  ye  bloody  homicides  : 
Murder  not,  then,  the  fruit  within  my  womb, 
Although  ye  hale  me  to  a  violent  death. 

York.  Now  heaven  forfend  ;  the  holy  maid  with  child ! 

War.  The  greatest  miracle  that  e'er  ye  wrought : 
Is  all  your  strict  preciseness  come  to  this  ? 

York.  She  and  the  Dauphin  have  been  jugghng : 
I  did  imagine  what  would  be  her  refuge. 

I.  140.  [K.H.VI.yOk 


^ci  V\  ■  KING  HENRY  VI.  iScene  IV. 

IVar.  Well,  well,  go  to ;  we'll  have  no  bastards  live ; 
Especially  since  Charles  must  father  it. 

Puc.  You  are  deceiv'd ;  my  child  is  none  of  his ; 
It  was  Alen^on  that  enjoy'd  my  love. 

York.  Alencjon  !  that  notorious  Machiavel  ! 
It  dies,  an  if  it  had  a  thousand  lives. 

Piic.  O.  give  me  leave,  I  have  deluded  you  : 
T'.vas  neither  Charles  nor  yet  the  duke  I  nam'd, 
.•)'jt  Reignier,  king  of  Naples,  that  prevail'd. 

IVar.  A  married  man!  that's  most  intolerable. 

York.  Why,  here's  a  girl  !  I  think  she  knows  not  well, 
rhere  were  so  many,  whom  she  may  accuse. 

War.  It's  sign  she  hath  been  liberal  and  free. 

York.  And  yet,  forsooth,  she  is  a  virgin  pure. — 
Strumpet,  thy  words  condemn  thy  brat  and  thee : 
Use  no  entreaty,  for  it  is  in  vain. 

Puc.  Then  lead  me  hence:  —  with  whom  I  leave  my 
curse  : 
May  never  glorious  sun  reflex  his  beams 
Upon  the  country  where  you  make  abode  ; 
But  darkness  and  the  gloomy  shade  of  death 
Environ  you,  till  mischief  and  despair 
Drive  you  to  break  your  necks  or  hang  yourselves  ! 

[Exit,  guarded. 

York.  Break  thou  in  pieces,  and  consume  to  ashes. 
Thou  foul  accursed  minister  of  hell ! 

Enter  Cardinal  Beaufort,  attended. 

Car.  Lord  regent,  I  do  greet  your  excellence 
With  letters  of  commission  from  the  king. 
For  know,  my  lords,  the  states  of  Christendom, 
Mov'd  with  remorse  of  these  outrageous  broils, 
Have  earnestly  implor'd  a  general  peace 
Betwixt  our  nation  and  th'  aspiring  French  ; 
And  here  at  hand  the  Dauphin  and  his  train 
Approacheth,  to  confer  about  some  matters. 

York.  Is  all  our  travail  turn'd  to  this  effect  ? 
After  the  slaughter  of  so  many  peers, 
So  many  captains,  gentlemen,  and  soldiers, 
That  in  this  quarrel  have  been  overthrown, 
And  sold  their  bodies  for  their  country-'s  benefit, 
Shall  w^e  at  last  conclude  effeminate  peace  ? 
Have  we  not  lost  most  part  of  all  the  towns, 

K.H,V1.7I.]  I.  141, 


Act  K]  THE  FIRS  T  PA  RT  OP  [Scene  It^. 

By  treason,  falsehood,  and  by  treachery, 
Our  great  progenitors  had  conquered  ?  — 
O,  Warwick,  Warwick  !  I  foresee  with  grief 
The  utter  loss  of  all  the  realm  of  France. 

War.  Be  patient,  York  :  if  we  conclude  a  peace. 
It  shall  be  with  such  strict  and  severe  covenants 
As  little  shall  the  Frenchmen  gain  thereby. 

Enter  Charles,  attended ;  ALENgON,  the  Bastard  of 
Orleans,  Reign  I ER,  and  others. 

Char.  Since,  lords  of  England,  it  is  thus  agreed 
That  peaceful  truce  shall  be  proclaim'd  in  France, 
We  come  to  be  informed  by  yourselves 
What  the  conditions  of  that  league  must  be. 

York.  Speak,  Winchester ;  for  boiling  choler  chokes 
The  hollow  passage  of  my  prison 'd  voice, 
By  sight  of  these  our  baleful  enemies. 

Car.  Charles,  and  the  rest,  it  is  enacted  thus  : 
That,  in  regard  King  Henr)'  gives  consent, 
Of  mere  compassion  and  of  lenity, 
To  ease  your  country  of  distressful  w^ar, 
And  suffer  you  to  breathe  in  fruitful  peace, — 
You  shall  become  true  liegemen  to  his  crown : 
And,  Charles,  upon  condition  thou  wilt  swear 
To  pay  him  tribute,  and  submit  thyself. 
Thou  shalt  be  plac'd  as  viceroy  under  him. 
And  still  enjoy  thy  regal  dignity. 

Alen.  Must  he  be,  then,  a  shadow  of  himself? 
Adorn  his  temples  with  a  coronet. 
And  yet,  in  substance  and  authority. 
Retain  but  privilege  of  a  private  man  } 
This  proffer  is  absurd  and  reasonless. 

Char.  'Tis  known  already  that  I  am  possess'd 
With  more  than  half  the  (rallian  territories. 
And  therein  reverenc'd  for  their  lawful  king  : 
Shall  I,  for  lucre  of  the  rest  unvanquish'd 
Detract  so  much  from  that  prerogative, 
As  to  be  call'd  but  viceroy  of  the  whole.? 
No,  lord  ambassador;  I'll  rather  keep 
That  which  I  have  than,  coveting  for  more. 
Be  cast  from  possibility  of  all. 

York.  Insulting  Charles!  hast  thou  by  secret  means 
Us'd  intercession  to  obtain  a  league, 

I   142.  [k.h.vi,  73. 


Act  K]  /C/J^G  HENRV  VI.  \Sctne  V. 

And,  now  the  matter  grows  to  compromise, 

Stand 'st  thou  aloof  upon  comparison  ? 

Either  accept  the  title  thou  usurp'st, 

Of  benefit  proceeding  from  our  king, 

And  not  of  any  challenge  of  desert, 

Or  we  will  plague  thee  with  incessant  wars. 

Reig.  [aside  to  C/iar/es]   My  lord,  you  do  not  well  in 
obstinacy 
To  cavil  in  the  course  of  this  contract  : 
If  once  it  be  neglected,  ten  to  one 
We  shall  not  find  like  opportunity. 

Alefi.  [aside  to  C/uxr/es]  To  say  the  truth,  it  is  your 
policy 
To  save  your  subjects  from  such  massacre 
And  ruthless  slaughters  as  are  daily  seen 
By  our  proceeding  in  hostility  ; 
And  therefore  take  this  compact  of  a  truce,' 
Although  you  break  it  when  your  pleasure  serves. 

War.  How  say'st  thou,  Charles  ?  shall  our  condition 
stand  } 

Char.  It  shall  ; 
Only  reserv'd,  you  claim  no  interest 
In  any  of  our  towns  of  garrison. 

York.  Then  swear  allegiance  to  his  majesty; 
As  thou  art  knight,  never  to  disobey 
Nor  be  rebellious  to  the  crown  of  England, — 
Thou,  nor  thy  nobles,  to  the  crown  of  England. 

[Charles  and  the  rest  give  tokens  of  fealty. 
So,  now  dismiss  your  army  when  ye  please. 
Hang  up  your  ensigns,  let  your  drums  be  still  ; 
For  here  we  entertain  a  solemn  peace.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  V.    London.    A  room  in  the  palace. 

Enter  King    Henry,    in   conference  with    SUFFOLK ; 
Gloster  and  Exeter  following. 

K.  Hen.  Your  wondrous  rare  description,  noble  earl, 
Of  beauteous  Margaret  hath  astonish'd  me  : 
Her  virtues,  graci^d  with  external  gifts, 
Do  breed  love's  settled  passions  in  my  heart : 
And  like  as  rigor  of  tempestuous  gusts 
Provokes  the  mightiest  hulk  against  the  tide. 
So  am  I  driven,  by  breath  of  her  renown, 
K.M.VS.73.]  I.  ,43. 


f<:i(^.'\  THE  hlHST  fART  OF  [Scene  ^^. 

Either  to  suffer  shipwreck,  or  arrive 
Where  I  may  have  fruition  of  her  love. 

Su/.  Tush,  my  good  lord, —  this  superticial  tale 
Is  but  a  preface  of  her  worthy  praise; 
The  chief  perfections  of  that  lovely  dame  — 
Had  1  sufficient  skill  to  utter  them  — 
Would  make  a  volume  of  enticing  lines. 
Able  to  ravish  any  dull  conceit  : 
And,  which  is  more,  she  is  not  so  divine, 
So  full-replete  with  choice  of  all  delights, 
But,  with  as  humi^le  lowliness  of  mind, 
She  is  content  to  be  at  your  command  ; 
Command,  1  mean,  of  virtuous  chaste  intents. 
To  love  and  honor  Henry  as  her  lord. 

A'.  Hen.  And  otherwise  will  Henry  ne'er  presume. 
Therefore,  my  lord  protector,  give  consent 
That  Margaret  may  be  England's  royal  queen. 

G/o.  So  should  I  give  consent  to  flatter  sin. 
You  know,  my  lord,  your  highness  is  betroth'd 
Unto  another  lady  of  esteem  : 
How  shall  we,  then,  dispense  with  that  contract. 
And  not  deface  your  honor  with  reproach  } 

Suf.  As  doth  a  ruler  with  unlawful  oaths  ; 
Or  one  that,  at  a  triumph  having  vow'd 
To  try  his  strength,  forsaketh  yet  the  lists 
By  reason  of  his  adversary's  odds : 
A  poor  earl's  daughter  is  unequal  odds. 
And  therefore  may  be  broke  without  offense. 

G/o.  Why,  w^hat,  I  pray,  is  Margaret  more  than  that  ? 
Her  father  is  no  better  than  an  earl, 
Although  in  glorious  titles  he  excel. 

Su/.  O,  yes,  my  lord,  her  father  is  a  king. 
The  King  of  Naples  and  Jerusalem ; 
And  of  such  great  authority  in  France, 
As  his  alliance  will  confirm  our  peace, 
And  keep  the  Frenchmen  in  allegiance. 

G/o.  And  so  the  Earl  of  Armagnac  may  do. 
Because  he  is  near  kinsman  unto  Charles. 

Exe.  Beside,  his  wealth  doth  warrant  a  liberal  dower,^ 
Where  Reignier  sooner  will  receive  than  give.  i 

Su/.  A  dower,  my  lords  !  disgrace  not  so  your  king,   ~- 
That  he  should  be  so  abject,  base,  and  poor,  •  "i 

To  choose  for  wealth,  and  not  for  perfect  love.  •■  -• 

I.  144.  [lC.H,VI.7^ 


Aci  Ki  '  KING  HENRY  VI.  iScene  V. 

Henry  is  able  to  enrich  his  queen,  -  t 

And  not  to  seek  a  queen  to  make  him  rich :  "  _' 

So  worthless  peasants  bargain  for  their  wives, 

As  market-men  for  oxen,  sheep,  or  horse.  \ 

Marriage  is  a  matter  of  more  worth  _^ 

Than  to  be  dealt  in  by  attorneyship  ;  ' ' 

Not  whom  we  will,  but  whom  his  grace  affects,  , 

Must  be  companion  of  his  nuptial  bed:  ' 

And  therefore,  lords,  since  he  affects  her  most. 

It  most  of  all  these  reasons  bindeth  us, 

In'our  opinions  she  should  be  preferr'd. 

For  what  is  wedlock  forced  but  a  hell, 

An  age  of  discord  and  continual  strife  ? 

Whereas  the  contrary  bringeth  bliss. 

And  is  a  pattern  of  celestial  peace. 

Whom  should  we  match  with  Henry,  being  a  king, 

But  Margaret,  that  is  daughter  to  a  king  ? 

Her  peerless  feature,  joined  with  her  birth, 

Approves  her  fit  for  none  but  for  a  king  : 

Her  v^aliant  courage  and  undaunted  spirit  — 

More  than  in  women  commonly  is  seen  — 

Will  answer  our  hope  in  issue  of  a  king ; 

For  Henry,  son  unto  a  conqueror, 

Is  likely  to  beget  more  conquerors. 

If  with  a  lady  of  so  high  resolve 

As  is  fair  Margaret  he  be  link'd  in  love. 

Then  yield,  my  lords ;  and  here  conclude  with  me 

That  Margaret  shall  be  queen,  and  none  but  she. 

K.  Hen.  Whether  it  be  through  force  of  your  report, 
My  noble  Lord  of  Suffolk,  or  for  that 
My  tender  youth  was  never  yet  attaint 
With  any  passion  of  inflaming  love, 
I  cannot  tell ;  but  this  I  am  assur'd, 
I  feel  such  sharp  dissension  in  my  breast. 
Such  fierce  alarums  both  of  hope  and  fear. 
As  I  am  sick  with  working  of  my  thoughts. 
Take,  therefore,  shipping  ;  post,  my  lord,  to  France  , 
Agree  to  any  covenants  ;  and  procure 
That  Lady  Margaret  do  vouchsafe  to  come 
To  cross  the  seas  to  England,  and  be  crown 'd 
King  Henry's  faithful  and  anointed  queen  : 
For  your  expenses  and  sufficient  charge, 
Among  the  people  gather  up  a  tenth. 

K.H.VI.7S.J  1.  I4i. 


Act  K,]  THE  FIRST  PART  OF  {Setnt  V. 

Be  gone,  I  say  :  for,  till  you  do  return, 

I  rest  perplexed  with  a  thousand  cares. — 

And  you,  good  uncle,  banish  all  offense : 

If  you  do  censure  me  by  what  you  were. 

Not  what  you  are,  I  know  it  will  excuse 

This  sudden  execution  of  my  will. 

And  so,  conduct  me  where,  from  company, 

I  may  revolve  and  ruminate  my  grief.  [Exit. 

Glo.  Ay,  grief,  I  fear  me,  both  at  first  and  last. 

^Exeunt  Gloster  and  Exeter. 

Suf.  Thus  Suffolk  hath  prevail'd  ;  and    thus  he  goes. 
As  did  the  youthful  Paris  once  to  Greece, 
With  hope  to  find  the  like  event  in  love, 
But  prosper  better  than  the  Trojan  did. 
Margaret  shall  now  be  queen,  and  rule  the  king ; 
But  I  will  rule  both  her,  the  king,  and  realm.  [^Exit. 


1    14&  [k.h.vI.;6. 


THE     SECOND    PART 


KING  HENRY  THE  SIXTH. 


DRAMATIS    PERSONi^. 


King  Henry  the  Sixth. 
Humphrey,  duke  of   Gloster, 

his  uncle. 
Cardinal  Beaufort,  bishop 

of    Winchester,    great-uncle 

to  the  King. 
Richard  Plantagenet,  duke 

of  York. 
Edward   and   Richard,   his 

sons. 
Duke  of  Somerset. 
Duke  of  Suffolk. 
Duke  of  Buckingham. 
Lord  Clifford. 
Young  Clifford,  his  son. 
Earl  of  Salisbury. 
Earl  of  Warwick. 
Lord  Scales. 
Lord  Say. 
Sir    Humphrey    Stafford, 

and    William    Stafford, 

his  brother. 
Sir  John  Stanley. 
Vaux. 

Matthew  Gough. 
A   Sea-Captain,     Master,    and 

Master's- Mate,  and  Walter 

Whitmore. 


Two  Gentlemen,  prisoners 
with  Suffolk. 

Alexander  Iden,  a  Kentish 
gentleman. 

John  Hume  and  John  South- 
well, two  priests. 

Roger  Bolingbkoke,  a  con- 
juror. 

Thomas  Horner,  an  armorer. 
Peter,  Irs  man. 

Clerk  of  Chatham.  Mayor  of 
St.  Alban's. 

Saunder    Simpcox,    an    im- 

pos  or. 

Jack  Cade,  a  rebel. 

George  Bevis,  John  Hol- 
land, Dick  the  butcher, 
Smith  tiie  weaver,  Michael, 
&c  ,  his  followers. 

Two   Murderers.  ' 

at. 


Margaret,    Queen  to    King 

Henry. 
Eleanor,  duchess  of  Gloster. 
Margery  Jdurdain,  a  witch. 
Wife  to  Simpcox. 


Lords,    Ladies,    and    Attendants,     Petitioners,    Aldermen, 

Herald,    a   Beadle,    -Sheriff,    and    Officers,    Citizens, 

Prentices,    Falconers,    Guards,    Soldiers, 

Messengers,    &c. 

A  Spirit. 

Scene  —  In  various  parts  of  England. 

K.H.V1.3.]  1. 149. 


Aei/.]  THE  SECC WD  PART  OF  [Sceue  I. 

ACT    1. 

Scene  I.    London.     A  room  of  state  in  the  palace. 

Flourish   of  trumpets:    then  hautbovs.     Enter,   on  one 

side.  King  Henry,  Duke  of  Gloster,  Salisbury 

Warwick,  and  Cardinal  Beaukorj  ;  on  the 

other.  Queen    MARGARET,  led  in  by 

Suffolk  ;  York,   S(jmerset, 

Buckingham,  and  others 

following. 

Suf.  As  by  your  high  imperial  majesty 
1  had  in  charge  at  my  depart  for  France, 
As  procurator  to  your  excellence, 
To  marry  Princess  Margaret  for  your  grace ; 
So,  in  the  famous  ancient  city  Tours, 
In  presence  of  the  Kings  of  France  and  Sicil, 
The  Dukes  of  Orleans,  Calaber,  Bretagne,  and  Alengon, 
Seven  earls,  twelve  barons,  and  twenty  reverend  bishops. 
I  have  perform 'd  my  task,  and  was  espous'd  : 
And  humbly  now,  upon  my  bended  knee. 
In  sight  of  England  and  her  lordly  peers, 
Deliver  up  my  title  in  the  queen 

To  your  most  gracious  hands,  that  are  the  substance 
Oi  that  great  shadow  I  did  represent ; 
The  happiest  gift  that  ever  marciuess  gave, 
The  fairest  queen  that  ever  king  receiv'd. 

K.  Hen.  Suffolk,  arise. —  Welcome,  Queen  Margaret  : 
I  can  express  no  kinder  sign  of  love 
Than  this  kind  kiss. —  O  Lord,  that  lends  me  life, 
Lend  me  a  heart  re])lete  with  thankfulness  ! 
For  thou  hast  given  me,  in  this  beauteous  face, 
A  world  of  earthly  blessings  to  my  soul. 
If  sympathy  of  love  unite  our  thoughts. 
'  Q.  Mar.  Great    King   of  England,    and    my   gracious 

lord,— 
The  mutual  conference  that  my  mind  hath  had. 
By  day,  by  night,  waking  and  in  my  dreams. 
In  courtly  company  or  at  my  beads. 
With  you,  mine  alder-liefest  sovereign. 
Makes  me  the  bolder  to  salute  my  king 
W' ith  ruder  terms,  such  as  my  wit  affords 
And  over-joy  of  heart  doth  minister. 

I.  150.  [k.h.vM' 


Acil.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  I. 

K.  Hen.    Her    sight    did    ravish ;    but   her  grace    in 
speech, 
Her  words  yclad  with  wisdom's  majesty, 
Make  me  from  wondering  fall  to  weeping  joys  ; 
Such  is  the  fullness  of  my  heart's  content. — 
Lords,  with  one  cheerful  voice  welcome  my  love. 

All.  [kneelmg  ]   Long  live  Queen  Margaret,  England's 
happiness !  S^Flourish, 

Q.  Mar.  We  thank  you  all. 

Suf.  My  lord  protector,  so  it  please  your  grace, 
Here  are  the  articles  of  contracted  peace 
Between  our  sovereign  and  the  French  king  Charles, 
For  eighteen  months  concluded  by  consent. 

Glo.  \reads\  "  Imprimis,  It  is  agreed  between  the 
French  king  Charles,  and  William  de  la  Pole,  marquess 
of  Suffolk,  ambassador  for  Henry  King  of  England, — 
that  the  said  Henry  shall  espouse  the  Lady  Margaret, 
daughter  unto  Reignier  King  of  Naples,  Sicilia,  and 
Jerusalem  ;  and  crown  her  Queen  of  England  ere  the 
thirtieth  of  May  next  ensuing.  Item,  that  the  duchy  of 
Anjou  and  the  county  of  Maine  shall  be  released  and  de- 
livered to  the  king  her  father"  — 

K.  Hen.  Uncle,  how  now  ! 

Glo.  Pardon  me,  gracious  lord  ; 

Some  sudden  qualm  hath  struck  me  at  the  heart, 
And  dimm'd  mine  eyes,  that  I  can  read  no  further. 

K.  Hen.  Uncle  of  W'inchester,  I  pray,  read  on. 

Car.  [reads]  "  Item,  It  is  further  agreed  between  them, 
that  the  duchies  of  Anjou  and  Maine  shall  be  released 
and  delivered  over  to  the  king  her  father  ;  and  she  sent 
over  of  the  King  of  England's  own  proper  cost  and 
charges,  without  having  any  dowry." 

K.  Hen.  They  please  us  well. —  Lord    marquess,  kneel 
down : 
We  here  create  thee  the  first  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
And  girt  thee  with  the  sword. —  Cousfn  of  York. 
We  here  discharge  your  grace  from  being  regent 
r  the  parts  of  France,  till  term  of  eighteen  months 
Be  full  expir'd.—  Thanks,  uncle  Winchester, 
Gloster,  York,  Buckingham,  Somerset, 
Salisbury,  and  Warwick  ;  ^ 

We  thank  you  all  for  this  great  favor  done,  \ 

In  entertainment  to  my  princely  queen. 

K.H.VI.S.]  \t  15I. 


Act  /.]  THE  SECO.\  n  J'A  K  T  OF  \_Scene  I. 

Come,  let  us  in  ;  and  with  all  speed  provide 
To  see  her  coronation  be  jjerformd. 

\Exeuiit  King,  Queen,  and  Suffolk. 

Glo.  Brave  peers  of  England,  pillars  of  the  state, 
To  you  Duke  Humphrey  must  unload  his  grief, — 
Your  grief,  the  common  grief  of  all  the  land. 
What  !  did  my  brother  Henry  spend  his  youth. 
His  valor,  coin,  and  people,  in  the  wars  ? 
Did  he  so  often  lodge  in  open  field 
In  winter's  cold  and  summer's  parching  heat. 
To  conquer  France,  his  true  inheritance  ? 
And  did  my  brother  Bedford  toil  his  wits, 
To  keep  by  policy  what  Henr)-  got  ? 
Have  you  yourselves,  Somerset,  Buckingham, 
Brave  York,  Salisbury,  and  victorious  Warwick, 
Receiv'd  deep  scars  in  France  and  Normandy? 
Or  hath  mine  uncle  Beaufort  and  myself, 
With  all  the  learned  council  of  the  realm. 
Studied  so  long,  sat  in  the  council-house 
Early  and  late,  debating  to  and  fro 
How  France  and  Frenchmen  might  be  kept  in  awe  ? 
And  was  his  highness  in  his  infancy 
Crowned  in  Paris  in  despite  of  foes  ? 
And  shall  these  labors  and  these  honors  die? 
Shall  Henry's  conquest,  Bedford's  vigilance. 
Your  deeds  of  war,  and  all  our  counsel  die? 
O  peers  of  England,  shameful  is  this  league  ! 
Fatal  this  marriage  I  canceling  your  fame, 
Blotting  vour  names  from  books  of  memory. 
Razing  the  characters  ot  your  renown. 
Defacing  monuments  of  conquer'd  France, 
Undoing  all,  as  all  had  never  been  ! 

Car.  Nephew,  what  means  this  passionate  discourse, 
This  peroration  with  such  circumstance  ? 
For  France,  'tis  ours ;  and  we  will  keep  it  still. 

Glo.  Ay,  uncle,  we  will  keep  it,  if  we  can  ; 
But  now  it  is  impossible  we  should  : 
Suffolk,  the  new-made  duke  that  rules  the  roast, 
Hath  given  the  duchies  of  Anjou  and  Maine 
Unto  the  poor  King  Reignier,  whose  large  style 
Agrees  not  with  the  leanness  of  his  purse. 

Sal.    Now,  by  the  death  of  Him  that  died  for  all, 

1.  153.  [k.h.vi.6. 


Act/.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scene  I. 

These  counties  were  the  keys  of  Normandy  :  — 
But  wherefore  weeps  Warwick,  my  valiant  son  ? 

War.  For  grief  that  they  are  past  recovery: 
For,  were  there  hope  to  conquer  them  again, 
My  sword  should  shed  hot  blood,  mine  eyes  no  tears. 
Anjou  and  Maine  !  myself  did  win  them  both; 
Those  provinces  these  arms  of  mine  did  conquer : 
And  are  the  cities,  that  I  got  with  wounds, 
Deliver'd  up  again  with  peaceful  words? 
Mori  bleu  ? 

York.  For  Suffolk's  duke,  may  he  be  suffocate. 
That  dims  the  honor  of  this  warlike  isle  ! 
France  should  have  torn  and  rent  niy  very  heart, 
Before  I  would  have  yielded  to  this  league. 
I  never  read  but  England's  kings  have  had 
Large  sums  of  gold  and  dowries  with  their  wives  ; 
And  our  King  Henry  gives  away  his  own. 
To  match  with  her  that  brings  no  vantages. 

Glo.  A  proper  jest,  and  never  heard  before. 
That  Suffolk  should  demand  a  whole  fifteenth 
For  cost  and  charges  in  transporting  her  ! 
She  should  have  stay'd  in  France,  and  starv'd  in  France, 
Before  — 

Car.  My  Lord  of  Gloster,  now  ye  grow  too  hot : 
It  was  the  pleasure  of  my  lord  the  king. 

Glo.  My  Lord  of  Winchester,  I  know  your  mind ; 
'Tis  not  my  speeches  that  you  do  mislike. 
But  'tis  my  presence  that  doth  trouble  ye. 
Rancor  will  out  :  proud  prelate,  in  thy  face 
I  see  thy  fury  :  if  I  longer  stay, 
We  shall  begin  our  ancient  bickerings. — 
Lordings,  farewell ;  and  say.  when  I  am  gone, 
I  prophesied  —  France  will  be  lost  ere  long.  \Exit. 

Car.  So,  there  goes  our  protector  in  a  rage. 
'Tis  known  to  you  he  is  mine  enemy  ; 
Nay,  more,  an  enemy  unto  you  all  ; 
And  no  great  friend,  I  fear  me,  to  the  king. 
Consider,  lords,  he  is  the  next  of  blood. 
And  heir-apparent  to  the  English  crown  : 
Had  Henry  got  an  empire  by  his  marriage, 
And  all  the  wealthy  kingdoms  of  the  west, 
There's  reason  he  should  be  displeas'd  at  it. 
Look  to  it,  lords  ;  let  not  his  smoothing  words 

i:.H.vi.7.]  1.  153. 


4c/  /.]  THE  Sl-X  OM)  J'A  R  T  OF  \Sctnt  t. 

Bewitch  your  hearts  ;  be  wise  and  circumspect. 

What  though  the  cuininon  people  favor  him, 

CaUing  him  "  Humjihrey,  the  good  Duke  of  Gloster  ;  " 

Clapping  their  hands,  and  crying  with  loud  voica, 

"  Jesu  maintain  your  royal  excellence  !  " 

With  "God  preserve  the  good  Duke  Humphrey  !  " 

I  fear  me,  lords,  for  all  this  flattering  gloss, 

He  will  be  found  a  dangerous  protector. 

Buck.  Why  should  he,  then,  protect  our  sovereign, 
He  being  of  age  to  govern  of  himself?  — 
Cousin  of  Somerset,  join  you  with  me. 
And  all  together,  with  the  Duke  of  Suffolk, 
We'll  quickly  hoise  Duke  Humphrey  from  his  seat. 

Car,    This  weighty  business  will  not  brook  delay  ; 
I'll  to  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  presently.  \^Exit. 

Som.    Cousin   of    Buckingham,     though    Humphrey's 
pride 
And  greatness  of  his  place  be  grief  to  us. 
Yet  let  us  watch  the  haughty  cardinal  : 
His  insolence  is  more  intolerable 
Than  all  the  princes  in  the  land  beside  : 
If  Gloster  be  displac'd,  he'll  be  protector. 

Buck.  Thou  or  I,  Somerset,  will  be  protector, 
Despite  Duke  Humphrey  or  the  cardinal. 

[Exeunt  Buckingham  and  Somenet, 

Sal.  Pride  went  before,  ambition  follows  him. 
While  these  do  labor  for  their  own  preferment. 
Behooves  it  us  to  labor  for  the  realm. 
I  never  saw  but  Humphrey  duke  of  Gloster 
Did  bear  him  like  a  noble  gentleman. 
Oft  have  I  seen  the  haughty  cardinal  — 
More  like  a  soldier  than  a  man  o'  the  church, 
As  stout  and  proud  as  he  were  lord  of  all  — 
Swear  like  a  rufiTian,  and  demean  himself 
Unlike  the  ruler  of  a  commonweal. — 
Warwick,  my  son,  the  comfort  of  my  age. 
Thy  deeds,  thy  plainness,  and  thy  housekeeping, 
Have  won  the  greatest  favor  of  the  commons, 
E.xcepting  none  but  good  Duke  Humphrey  :  — 
And,  brother  York,  thy  acts  in  Ireland, 
In  bringing  them  to  civil  discipline  ; 
Thy  late  exploits  done  in  the  heart  of  France, 
When  thou  wert  regent  for  our  sovereign, 

1. 154.  [k.k  n.8. 


^ct  /.I  KING  HENRY  VI.  \Scen*  t. 

Have  made  thee  fear'd  and  honor'd  of  the  people  :  — 

Join  we  together,  for  the  public  good, 

111  what  we  can,  to  bridle  and  suppress 

The  pride  of  Suffolk  and  the  cardinal. 

With  Somerset's  and  Buckingham's  ambition  ; 

And,  as  we  may,  cherish  Duke  Humphrey's  deeds. 

While  they  do  tend  the  prorit  of  the  land. 

War.  So  God  help  Warwick,  as  he  loves  the  land, 
And  comir.on  prorit  of  his  country ! 

York,  [aside]  And  so  says  York,  for  he   hath  greatest 
cause. 

Sa/.  Then  let's 
Make  haste  away,  and  look  unto  the  main. 

War.  Unto  the  main  !  O  father,  Maine  is  lost, —        i 
That  Maine  which  by  main  force  Warwick  did  win.       / 
And  would  have  kept  so  long  as  breath  did  last. 
Main  chance,  father,  you  meant ;  but  I  meant  Maine, — 
Which  1  will  win  from  France,  or  else  be  slain. 

[Exeunt  War-7vick  and  Salisbury^ 

York.  Anjou  and  Maine  are  given  to  the  French  ; 
Paris  is  lost ;  the  state  of  Normandy 
Stands  on  a  tickle  point,  now  they  are  gone : 
Suffolk  concluded  on  the  articles  ; 
The  peers  agreed  ;  and  Henry  was  well  pleas'd 
To  change  two  dukedoms  for  a  duke's  fair  daughter. 
I  cannot  blame  them  all  :  what  is't  to  them  .-' 
'Tis  thine  they  give  away,  and  not  their  own. 
Pirates  may  make  cheap  pennyworths  of  their  pillage, 
And  purchase  friends  and  give  to  courtesans, 
.Still  reveling,  like  lords,  till  all  be  gone  ; 
While  as  the  silly  owner  of  the  goods 
Weeps  over  them,  and  wrings  his  helpless  hands, 
And  shakes  his  head,  and  trembling  stands  aloof. 
While  all  is  shar'd,  and  all  is  borne  awav, 
Ready  to  starve,  and  dare  not  touch  his  own  : 
So  York  must  sit,  and  fret,  and  bite  his  tongue, 
While  his  own  lands  are  bargain'd  for  and  sold. 
Methinks  the  realms  of  England,  France,  and  Ireland 
Bear  that  proportion  to  my  flesh  and  blood 
As  did  the  fatal  brand  Althaea  burn'd 
Unto  the  prince's  heart  of  Calydon. 
Anjou  and  Maine,  both  given  unto  the  French ! 
Cold  news  for  me;  for  I  had  hope  of  France,  ..  i ./ 

K.H.V1.9.J  I.  155. 


Aci  /.]  TirE  SECOND  PA  RT  OF  [Scene  II. 

Even  as  I  have  of  fertile  England's  soil. 

A  day  will  come  when  York  shall  claim  his  own  ; 

And  therefore  1  will  take  the  Nevils'  parts, 

And  make  a  show  of  love  to  proud  Uuke  Humphrey, 

And,  when  I  spy  advantage,  claim  the  crown, 

For  that's  the  golden  mark  I  seek  to  hit: 

Nor  shall  proud  Lancaster  usurp  m)  right. 

Nor  hold  the  scepter  in  his  childish  tist, 

Nor  wear  the  diadem  upon  his  head. 

Whose  church-like  humor  fits  not  for  a  crown. 

Then,  York,  he  still  awhile,  till  time  do  ser\'e : 

Watch  thou  and  wake,  when  others  be  asleep, 

To  pry  into  the  secrets  of  the  state  ; 

Till  Henry,  surfeiting  in  joys  of  love. 

With  his  new  bride  and  England's  dear-bought  queen, 

And  Humphrey  with  the  peers  be  fall'n  at  jars: 

Then  will  1  raise  aloft  the  milk-white  rose. 

With  whose  sweet  smell  the  air  shall  be  perfum'd  ; 

And  in  my  standard  bear  the  arms  of  York, 

To  grapple  with  the  house  of  Lancaster ; 

And,  force  perforce,  I'll  make  him  yield  the  crown. 

Whose  bookish  rule  hath  puU'd  fair  England  down. 

{Exit. 

Scene  II.      The  same.     A  roovi  in  the   Duke  of  Glos- 
TER's  house. 

Enter  Gloster  and  the  Duchess. 

Duch.  Why  droops  my  lord,  like  over-ripen 'd  corn 
Hanging  the  head  at  Ceres'  plenteous  load  ? 
Why  dolh  the  great  Duke  Humphrey  knit  his  brows. 
As  frowning  at  the  favors  of  the  world  .'' 
Why  are  thine  eyes  fix'd  to  the  sullen  earth, 
Gazing  on  that  which  seems  to  dim  thy  sight  ? 
What  seest  thou  there .'   King  Henry's  diadem, 
Enchas'd  with  all  the  honors  of  the  world .'' 
If  so,  gaze  on,  and  grovel  on  thy  face. 
Until  thy  head  be  circled  with  the  same. 
Put  forth  thy  hand,  reach  at  the  glorious  gold  :  — 
What,  is't  too  short  ?  I'll  lengthen  it  with  mine; 
And,  having  both  together  heav'd  it  up. 
We'll  both  together  lift  our  heads  to  heaven, 

I.  is6.  [k.h.vi.io. 


A€t/.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Seine  II. 

And  never  more  abase  our  sight  so  low 

As  to  vouchsafe  one  glance  unto  the  ground. 

Glo.  O  Nell,  sweet  Nell,  if  thou  dost  love  thy  lord. 
Banish  the  canker  of  ambitious  thoughts  ! 
And  may  that  thought,  when  I  imagine  ill 
Against  my  king  and  nephew,  virtuous  Henry, 
Be  my  last  breathing  in  this  mortal  world  I 
My  troublous  dream  this  night  doth  make  me  sad. 

Duck.  What  dream'd    my   lord?  tell   me,  and   I'll   re- 
quite it 
With  sweet  rehearsal  of  my  morning's  dream. 

Glo.  Methought  this  staff,  mine  office'  badge  in  court, 
Was  broke  in  twain  ;  by  whom  I  have  forgot, 
But,  as  I  think,  'twas  by  the  cardinal  ; 
And  on  the  pieces  of  the  broken  wand 
Were  plac'd  the  heads  of  Edmund  duke  of  Somerset, 
And  William  de  la  Pole,  first  duke  of  Suffolk. 
This  was  my  dream  :  what  it  doth  bode,  God  knows. 

Duch.  Tut,  this  was  nothing  but  an  argument 
That  he  that  breaks  a  stick  of  Gloster's  grove 
Shall  lose  his  head  for  his  presumption. 
But  list  to  me,  my  Humphrey,  my  sweet  duke : 
Methought  I  sat  in  seat  of  majesty 
In  the  cathedral  church  of  Westminster, 
And  in  that  chair  where  kings  and  queens  are  crown'd  ; 
There  Henry  and  Dame  Margaret  kneel'd  to  me, 
And  on  my  head  did  set  the  diadem. 

Glo.  Nay,  Eleanor,  then  must  I  chide  outright : 
Presumptuous  dame,  ili-nurtur'd  Eleanor  I 
Art  thou  not  second  woman  in  the  realm. 
And  the  protector's  wife,  belov'd  of  him.-* 
Hast  thou  not  worldly  pleasure  at  command. 
Above  the  reach  or  compass  of  thy  thought  ? 
And  wilt  thou  still  be  hammering  treacher)'. 
To  tumble  down  thy  husband  and  thyself 
From  top  of  honor  to  disgrace's  feet  ? 
Away  from  me,  and  let  me  hear  no  more  ! 

Duch.  What,  what,  my  lord  !  are  you  so  choleric 
With  Eleanor,  for  telling  but  her  dream  } 
Next  time  I'll  keep  my  dreams  unto  myself, 
And  not  be  check'd. 

Glo.  Nay,  be  not  angry ;  I  am  pleas 'd  again. 

a.il.vi.ji.J  I.  157. 


Act  I.]  THE  SECOXn  J'A  K  T  OF  {Scene  It 

Enter  a  Messenger.  •<^- 

Mess.  My  lord  protector,  'tis  his  highness'  pleasure 
You  do  prepare  to  ride  unto  Saint  Alban's, 
Whereas  the  king  and  queen  do  mean  to  hawk.        •^>^» 

Glo.  I  go. —  Come,  Nell, —  thou'lt  ride  with  us,  1  'm  sure. 

Ditch.  Yes,  my  good  lord,  I'll  follow  presently. 

[Exeunt  Gloster  and  Messenger. 
Follow  I  must ;   I  cannot  go  before, 
While  Gloster  bears  this  base  and  humble  mind. 
Were  I  a  man,  a  duke,  and  next  of  blood, 
1  would  remove  these  tedious  stumbling-blocks. 
And  smooth  my  way  upon  their  headless  necks  : 
And  being  a  woman,  I  will  not  be  slack 
To  play  my  part  in  Fortune's  pageant. — 
Where  are  you  there,  Sir  John  }  nay,  fear  not,  man, 
We  are  alone ;  here's  none  but  thee  and  I. 

Enter   HuME. 

Hume,  Jesus  preserve  your  royal  majesty ! 

Duch.  What  say'st  thou  1  majesty  !  I  am  but  grace.  ' 

Hume.   But,  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  Hume's  ad\icc, 
Your  grace's  title  shall  be  multiplied. 

Duch.  What     say'st    thou,    man .''    hast    thou   as    yCi 
conferr'd 
With  Margery  Jourdain,  the  cunning  witch, 
With  Roger  Bolingbroke,  the  conjurer.'' 
And  will  they  undertake  to  do  me  good  ? 

Hume.  This  they  have  promised, —  to  show  your  high- 
■    ness 
A  spirit  rais'd  from  depth  of  under-ground. 
That  shall  make  answer  to  such  questions 
As  by  your  grace  shall  be  propounded  him. 

Duch.   It  is  enough  ;  I'll  tliink  upon  the  questions: 
When  from  Saint  Alban's  we  do  make  return. 
We'll  see  these  things  effected  to  the  full. 
Here,  Hume,  take  this  reward  ;  make  merry,  man. 
With  thy  confederates  in  this  weighty  cause.  [Exit. 

Hume,  Hume  must  make  merry  with  the  iluchess'^gold  ; 
Marry,  and  shall.     But.  how  now,  Sn-  John  Hume  f 
Seal  up  your  lips,  and  give  no  wordo  but  mum  : 
The  business  asketh  silent  secrecy.  '■   ■  '■ 

Dame  Eleanor  gives,  gold  to  bring  the  witch  ; 

1.  158.  i^.H-vitiai 


Act  A]  A'/NG  HENR  V  VI.  {Scene  in. 

Gold  cannot  come  amiss,  were  she  a  devil. 

Yet  have  I  gold  flies  from  another  coast  :  — 

I' dare  not  say.  from  the  rich  cardinal. 

And  from  the  great  and  new-made  Duke  of  Suffolk; 

Yet  I  do  tind  it  so  :  for,  to  be  plain. 

They,  knowing  Dame  Eleanor's  aspiring  humor, 

Have  hired  me  to  undermine  the  duchess, 

And  buzz  these  conjurations  in  her  brain. 

They  say, —  A  crafty  knave  does  need  no  broker; 

Yet  am  I  Suffolk  and  the  cardinal's  broker. 

Hume,  if  you  take  not  heed,  you  shall  go  near 

To  call  them  both  a  pair  of  crafty  knaves. 

W.ell,  so  it  stands ;  and  thus,  I  fear,  at  last 

Hume's  knavery  will  be  the  duchess'  wreck, 

And  her  attainture  will  be  Humphrey's  fall : 

Sort  how  it  will,  I  shall  have  gold  for  all.  [Exit, 

Scene  HI.      T/w  sixjue.     An  outer  room  in  the  palace. 
£nter  Peier,  and  other  Petitioners. 

First  Petit.  My  masters,  let's  siand  close:  my  lord 
protector  will  come  this  way  by  and  by,  and  then  we  may 
deliver  our  supplications  in  the  quill. 

St^c.  Petit.  Marry,  the  Lord  protect  him,  for  he's  agood 
man  !  Jcsu  bless  him  ! 

First  Petit.  Here  'a  comes,  methinks,  and  the  queen 
with  him.     I'll  be  the  first,  sure. 

Enter  SUFFOLK  and  Queen  Margaret.  : 

Sec.  Petit.  Come  back,  fool ;  this  is  the  Duke  of  Suf- 
folk, and  not  my  lord  protector. 

Suf.  How  now,  fellow  !  wouldst  any  thing  with  me  ? 

First  Petit.  I  pray,  my  lord,  pardon  me;  I  took  ye  for 
my  lord  protector. 

Q.  Mar.  For  my  lord  protector!  Are  your  supplica- 
tions to  his  lordship  }  Let  me  see  them  :  —  what  is  thine  } 

First  Petit.  Mine  is,  an't  please  your  grace,  against 
John  Goodman,  my  lord  cardinal's  man,  for  keeping  my 
house  and  lands,  and  wife  and  all,  from  me. 

Suf.  Thy  wife  too !  that's  some  wrong,  indeed. — 
What's  yours  ?  —  What's  here!  \Reads^^  "Against  the 
Duke  of  .Suffolk,  for  enclosing  the  commons  of  Melford.' 
— How  nt)w,  sir  knave  ! 

K.H.V1.13.]  I.  159. 


><<y /.]  THE  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scene  III. 

Sec.  Petit.  Alas,  sir,  I  am  but  a  poor  petitioner  of  our 
whole  township. 

Piter,  {presenting  his  petition]  Against  my  master, 
Thomas  Horner,  for  saying  that  the  Duke  of  York  was 
rightful  heir  to  the  crown. 

Q.  Mar.  What  say'st  thou .''  did  the  Duke  of  York  say 
he  was  rightful  heir  to  the  crown  ? 

Peter.  That  my  master  was  ?  no,  forsooth  :  my  master 
said  that  he  was  ;  and  that  the  king  was  an  usurper. 

Suf.  Who  is  there  ?  [Enter  Servants.  ]  —  Take  this  fel- 
low in.  and  send  for  his  master  with  a  pursuivant  pres- 
ently.—  W^e'll  hear  more  of  your  matter  before  the  king. 
[Exeunt  Servants  7vith  Peter. 

Q.  Afar.  And  as  for  you.  that  love  to  be  protected 
Under  the  wings  of  our  protector's  grace, 
Begin  your  suits  anew,  and  sue  to  him. 

[  Tears  the  petitions. 
Away,  base  cullions  !  —  Suffolk,  let  them  go. 

A /I.  Come,  let's  be  gone.  [Exeunt  Petitioners, 

Q.  Mar.  My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  say,  is  this  the  guise. 
Is  this  the  fashion  in  the  court  of  England  } 
Is  this  the  government  of  Britain's  isle, 
And  this  the  royalty  of  Albion's  king  }  ^ 

What,  shall  King  Henr>'  be  a  pupil  still, 
Under  the  surly  Gloster's  governance  } 
Am  I  a  queen  in  title  and  in  style. 
And  must  be  made  a  subject  to  a  duke  } 
I  tell  thee,  Pole,  when  in  the  city  Tours 
Thou  rann'st  a  tilt  in  honor  of  my  love, 
And  stol'st  away  the  ladies'  hearts  of  France, 
I  thought  King  Henr>'  had  resembled  thee 
In  courage,  courtship,  and  proportion  : 
But  all  his  mind  is  bent  to  holiness, 
To  number  A7/e-Maries  on  his  beads : 
His  champions  are  the  prophets  and  apostles  , 
His  weapons  holy  saws  of  sacred  writ ; 
His  study  is  his  tilt-yard,  and  his  loves 
Are  brazen  images  of  canoniz'd  saints. 
I  would  the  college  of  the  cardinals 
Would  choose  him  Pope,  and  carry  him  to  Rome, 
And  set  the  triple  crown  upon  his  head  :  — 
That  were  a  state  fit  for  his  holiness. 

I.    160.  [K.H.VI.t*, 


Aci/.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scene  III. 

Suf.  Madam,  be  patient  :  as  I  was  cause 
Your  highness  came  to  England,  so  will  I 
In  England  work  your  grace's  full  content. 

Q.  Mar.  Beside  the  haught  protector,  have  we  Beau- 
fort 
Th'  imperious  churchman,  Somerset,  Buckingham. 
And  grumbling  York  ;  and  not  the  least  of  these 
But  can  do  more  in  England  than  the  king. 

Sj(f.  And  he  of  these  that  can  do  most  of  all 
Cannot  do  more  in  England  than  the  Nevils  : 
Salisbury  and  Warwick  are  nt)  simple  peers. 

Q.  Mar.  Not  all  these  lords  do  vex  me  half  so  much 
As  that  proud  dame  the  lord  protector's  wife. 
She  sweeps  it  through  the  court  with  troops  of  ladies, 
More  like  an  empress  than  Duke  Humphrey's  wife  : 
Strangers  in  court  do  take  her  for  the  queen  : 
She  bears  a  duke's  revenues  on  her  back, 
And  in  her  heart  she  scorns  our  poverty : 
Shall  I  not  live  to  be  aveng'd  on  her  .-* 
Contemptuous  base-born  callet  as  she  is. 
She  vaunted  'mongst  her  minions  t'other  day, 
The  very  train  of  her  worst  wearing-gown 
Was  better  worth  than  all  my  father's  lands, 
Till  SulTolk  gave  two  dukedoms  for  his  daughter. 

Suf.  Madam,  myself  have  lim'd  a  bush  for  her. 
And  plac'd  a  quire  of  such  enlicmg  birds. 
That  she  will  light  to  listen  to  their  lays, 
And  never  mount  to  trouble  you  again. 
So,  let  her  rest  :  and,  madam,  list  to  me. 
For  I  am  bold  to  counsel  you  in  this. 
Although  we  fancy  not  the  cardinal. 
Yet  must  we  join  with  him  and  with  the  lords, 
Till  we  have  brought  Duke  Humphrey  in  disgrace. 
As  for  the  Duke  of  York, —  this  late  complaint 
Will  make  but  little  for  his  benefit. 
So,  one  by  one,  we'll  weed  them  all  at  last, 
And  you  yourself  shall  steer  the  happy  helm. 

Enter   King  Henry,  Duke  and  Duchess  of  Gloster 

Cardinal  Beaufort,  Buckingham,  York, 

Somerset,  Salisbury,  and  Warwick. 

K.  Hen.  For  my  part,  noble  lords,  I  care  not  which ; 
Or  Somerset  or  York,  all's  one  to  me. 

K.H.VI  15. 1  I.  i6l. 


Aci/.]  THE  SECO.XD  FART  OF  [K^tM^  JJJ- 

York.  If  York  have  ill  demean'd  himself  in  France, 
Then  let  him  be  clenay'd  the  regentship. 

Soi/t.  If  Somerset  be  unworthy  of  the  place, 
Let  York  be  regent;  I  will  yield  to  him. 

IVa?-.  Whether  your  grace  be  worthy,  yea  or  no, 
Dispute  not  that  :  York  is  the  worthier. 

Car.  Ambitious  Warwick,  let  thy  betters  speak. 

War.  The  cardinal's  not  my  better  in  the  field. 

Buck.  All  in  this  presence  are  thy  betters,  Warwick. 

War.  Warwick  may  live  to  be  the  best  of  all. 

Sal.  Peace,  son  !  —  and  show  some  reason,  Bucking- 
ham, 
Why  Somerset  should  be  preferr'd  in  this. 

Q.  Mar.  Because  the  king,  forsooth,  will  have  it  so. 

GIo.  Madam,  the  king  is  old  enough  himself 
To  give  his  censure  ;  these  are  no  women's  matters. 

(9.  Mar.   If  he  be  old  enough,  what  needs  your  grace 
To  be  protector  of  his  excellence  } 

Glo.   Madam,  I  am  protector  of  the  realm  ; 
And,  at  his  pleasure,  will  resign  my  place. 

Suf.   Resign  it,  then,  and  leave  thine  insolence. 
Since  thou  wert  king, —  as  who  is  king  but  thou?  — 
The  commonwealth  hath  daily  run  to  wreck  ; 
The  Dauphin  hath  prevail'd  beyond  the  seas ; 
And  all  the  peers  and  nobles  of  the  realm 
Have  been  as  bondsmen  to  thy  sovereignty. 

Car.  The  commons  hast  thou  rack'd  ;  the  clergy's  bags 
Are  lank  and  lean  with  thy  extortions. 

So»i.  Thy  sumptuous  buildings  and  thy  wife's  attire 
Have  cost  a  mass  of  public  treasury. 

Buck.  Thy  cruelty  in  execution 
Upon  offenders  hath  exceeded  law, 
And  left  thee  to  the  mercy  of  the  law. 

Q.  Mar.  Thy  sale  of  offices  and  towns  in  France  — 
If  they  were  known,  as  the  suspect  is  great  — 
Would  make  thee  quickly  hop  without  thy  head. 

\Exit  Glostcr.      'The  Queen  drops  her  fan. 
Give  me  my  fan  :  what,  minion  !  can  ye  not  ? 

[  Gives  the  Duchess  a  box  on  the  ear, 
I  cry  you  mercy,  madam  ;  was  it  you  ? 

Duch.  Was't  I !  yea,  I  it  was,  proud  Frenchwoman  : 
Could  I  come  near  your  beauty  with  my  nails, 
I'd  set  my  ten  commandments  in  your  face. 

1. 162.  [K.H.V1.1& 


Act  /]  KING  HENRY  VI.  \Scfne  III. 

K.  Hen.  Sweet  aunt,  be  quiet  ;  'twas  against  her  will. 

Diii/i.  Against  her  wiH  !  good  king,  look  to't  in  time  ; 
She'll  hamper  thee,  and  dandle  thee  like  a  baby  : 
Though  in  this  place  most  master  wear  no  breeches, 
She  shall  not  strike  Dame  Eleanor  unreveng'd,         \^Exii. 

Buck.   Lord  cardinal,  I  will  follow  Eleanor, 
And  listen  after  Humphrey,  how  he  proceeds  : 
She's  tickled  now  ;  her  fury  needs  no  spurs. 
She'll  gallop  fast  enough  to  her  destruction.  ]^Exit, 

Re-enter  Gloster. 

Glo.  Now,  lords,  my  choler  being  over-blown 
With  walking  once  about  the  quadrangle, 
I  come  to  talk  of  commonwealth  affairs. 
As  for  your  spiteful  false  objections, 
Prove  them,  and  I  lie  open  to  the  law  : 
But  God  in  mercy  so  deal  with  my  soul. 
As  I  in  duty  love  my  king  and  country  ! 
But,  to  the  matter  that  we  have  in  hand  :  — 
I  say,  my  sovereign,  York  is  meetest  man 
To  be  your  regent  in  the  realm  of  France. 

Siif.  Before  we  make  election,  give  me  leave 
To  show  some  reason,  of  no  little  force, 
That  York  is  most  unmeet  of  any  man. 

York.  I'll  tell  thee,  Suffolk,  why  I  am  unmeet : 
First,  for  I  cannot  flatter  thee  in  pride  ; 
Next,  if  I  be  appointed  for  the  place. 
My  Lord  of  Somerset  will  keep  me  here. 
Without  discharge,  money,  or  furniture. 
Till  France  be  won  into  the  Dauphin's  hands  : 
Last  time,  I  danc'd  attendance  on  his  will 
Till  Paris  was  besieg'd,  famish'd,  and  lost. 

War.  That  can  I  witness  ;  and  a  fouler  fact 
Did  never  traitor  in  the  land  commit. 

Suf.  Peace,  headstrong  Warwick  ! 

War.  Image  of  pride,  why  should  I  hold  my  peace  ? 

Enter  Servants,  bringing  in  Horner  and  Peter. 

Suf.  Because  here  is  a  man  accus'd  of  treason  : 
Pray  God  the  Duke  of  York  excuse  himself  I 
York.  Doth  any  one  accuse  York  for  a  traitor  ? 
K.  Hen.  What  mean'st   thou,  Suffolk  }  tell  me,  what 
are  these  .'' 

K.H.V1.17.]  I.  163. 


Act  I.]  THE  SECOXD  PART  OF  '        [Scen^ ///. 

Suf.  Please  it  your  majesty,  this  is  the  man 
That  doth  accuse  his  master  of  high  treason  ; 
His  words  were  these, —  that  Richard  duke  of  York 
Was  rightful  heir  unto  the  English  crown, 
And  that  your  majesty  was  an  usurper. 

K.  Hen.  Say,  man,  were  these  thy  words  ? 

Hor.  An't  shall  please  your  majesty,  I  never  said  nor 
thought  any  such  matter  :  God  is  my  witness,  I  am 
falsely  accused  by  the  villain. 

Pef.  [Jwlding  up  his  Iiands\  By  these  ten  bones,  my 
lords,  he  did  speak  them  to  me  in  the  garret  one  night,  a^ 
we  were  scouring  my  Lord  of  York's  armor. 

York.  Base  dunghill  villain  and  mechanical. 
I'll  have  thy  head  for  this  thy  traitor's  speech. — 
I  do  beseech  your  royal  majesty, 
Let  him  have  all  the  rigor  of  the  law. 

Hor.  Alas,  my  lord,  hang  me,  if  ever  I  spake  the  words. 
My  accuser  is  my  prentice ;  and  when  I  did  correct  him 
for  his  fault  the  other  day,  he  did  vow  upon  his  knees 
he  would  be  even  with  me  ;  I  have  good  witness  of  this  : 
therefore,  I  beseech  your  majesty,  do  not  cast  away  an 
honest  man  for  a  villain's  accusation. 

K.  Hen.  Uncle,  what  shall  we  say  to  this  in  law. 

Glo.  This  is  my  doom,  my  lord,  if  I  may  judge  : 
Let  Somerset  be  regent  o'er  the  French, 
Because  in  York  this  breeds  suspicion  ; 
And  let  these  have  a  day  appointed  them 
For  single  combat  in  convenient  place. 
For  he  hath  witness  of  his  servant's  malice  : 
This  is  the  law,  and  this  Duke  Humphrey's  doom. 

K.  Hen.  Then  be  it  so. —  My  Lord  of  Somerset, 
We  make  your  grace  regent  over  the  French. 

Soni.  I  humbly  thank  your  royal  majesty. 

Hor.  And  I  accept  the  combat  willingly. 

Pet.  Alas,  my  lord,  I  cannot  tight  ;  for  God's  sake, 
pity  my  case !  The  spite  of  man  prevaileth  against  me. 
O  Lord,  have  mercy  upon  me  !  1  shall  never  be  able  to 
fight  a  blow  :  O  Lord,  my  heart ! 

Glo.  Sirrah,  or  you  must  fight,  or  else  be  hang'd; 

K.  Hen.  Away  with  them  to  prison  !  and  the  day 
Of  combat  shall  be  the  last  of  the  next  month. — 
Come,  Somerset,  we'll  see  thee  sent  away.  [Exeunt 

I.  164.  [k.h.vi.iS 


Act  /.]  KING  HEXRV  VL  \_Scene  I , 

Scene    IV.       T/ie   same.      The    Duke    of    Gloster's. 
garden. 

£';//<:'A- Margery  JouRDAiN,  Hume,  Sou ih well.  (?-»/</ 

BOLINGBROKE. 

Hume.  Come,  my  masters  ;  the  duchess,  I  tell  you, 
expects  performance  of  your  promises. 

Baling.  Master  Hume,  we  are  therefore  provided  : 
will  her  ladyship  behold  and  hear  our  exorcisms  ? 

Hume.  Ay,  what  else  ?  fear  you  not  her  courage. 

Boling.  I  have  heard  her  reported  to  be  a  woman  of 
an  invincible  spirit  :  but  it  shall  be  convenient.  Master 
Hume,  that  you  be  by  her  aloft,  while  we  be  busy  below  ; 
and  so,  I  pray  you,  go  in  God's  name,  and  leave  us. 
\Exit  Hume.\  Mother  Jourdain,  be  you  prostrate,  and 
grovel  on  the  earth  ;  — John  Southwell,  read  you  ;  —  and 
let  us  to  our  work. 

Enter  Duchess  above;  and  presently  Hume. 

Duch.  Well  said,  my  masters  ;  and  welcome  all.  To 
this  gear, —  the  sooner  the  better. 

Boling.  Patience,  good  lady ;  wizards  know  their  times : 
Deep  night,  dark  night,  the  silent  of  the  night, 
The  time  of  night  when  Troy  was  set  on  fire  ; 
The  time  when  screech-owls  cry,  and  ban-dogs  howl. 
And  spirits  walk,  and  ghosts  break  up  their  graves, — 
That  time  best  fits  the  work  we  have  in  hand. 
Madam,  sit  you,  and  fear  not :  whom  we  raise, 
We  will  make  fast  within  a  hallow'd  verge. 

[^Here  they  do  the  ceremonies  belonging,  and  make 
the  circle  ;  Bolingbroke  or  Southiucll  reads, 
Conjuro  te,  etc.  //  thunders  and  lightens 
terribly  ;  then  the  Spirit  riseth. 

Spir.  Adsum. 

M.  Jour.  Asmath, 
By  the  eternal  God,  whose  name  and  power 
Thou  tremblest  at,  answer  that  I  shall  ask  ; 
For,  till  thou  speak,  thou  shalt  not  pass  from  hence. 

Spir.  Ask  what  thou  wilt  :  —  that  I  had  said  and  done ! 

Boling.  '^reading  out  of  a  paper]   "  First  of  the  king  : 
what  shall  of  him  become  ?  " 

spir.  The  duke  yet  lives  that  Henry  shall  depose  ; 
But  him  outlive,  and  die  a  violent  death. 

[As  the  spirit  speaks,  Southioell writes  the  answers, 
K.H.V1.19,]  1. 165. 


Act  /.]  THE  Sr.COXn  part  CF  [Scene  /K 

Boling.  "  What  fates  await  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  ?  " 

Spir.  By  water  shall  he  die,  and  take  his  end. 

Boling.  "  What  shall  befall  the  Duke  of  Somerset  ?  ' 

Spir.  Let  him  shun  castles  ; 
Safer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sand)  plams 
Than  where  castles  mounted  stand. — 
Have  done,  for  more  I  hardly  can  endure. 

Boling.  Descend  to  darkness  and  the  burning  lake  ! 
False  fiend,  avoid  ! 

[  Thunder  and  lightning.     Spirit  descends. 

Enter  York  «//</ Buckingham,  breaking  in  with  their 
Guards. 

York.  Lay  hands  upon  these  traitors  and  their  trash. — 
Beldam,  I  think  we  watch'd  you  at  an  inch. — 
What,  madam,  are  you  there.''  the  king  and  commonweal 
Are  deep-indebted  for  this  piece  of  pains  : 
My  lord  protector  will,  I  doubt  it  not, 
See  you  well-guerdon'd  for  these  good  deserts. 

Duch.  Not  half  so  bad  as  thine  to  England's  king, 
Injurious  duke,  that  threatest  where's  no  cause. 

Buck.  True,  madam,  none  at  all : — what  call  you  this  ? — 

\Showing  her  the  papers. 
Away  with  them  !  let  them  be  clapp'd  up  close. 
And  kept  asunder.— You,  madam,  shall  with  us. — 
Stafford,  take  her  to  thee. — 
We'll  see  your  trinkets  here  forihcoming  all. — - 
Away  !         [Exeunt,  above.  Duchess  and  Hume,  guarded. 
Exeunt,  below,  Southwell,  Bolingbroke,  &^c., guarded. 

York.  Lord  Buckingham,  methinks  you  watch'd  her 
well : 
A  pretty  plot,  well  chosen  to  build  upon  ! 
Now,  pray,  my  lord,  let's  see  the  devil's  writ. 
What  have  we  here  }  [Reads, 

"  The  duke  yet  lives  that  Henry  shall  depose  ; 
But  him  outlive,  and  die  a  violent  death." 
Why,  this  is  just 

Aio  te,  /Eacida,  Romanes  vi7icere posse. 
Well,  to  the  rest: 

"  Tell  me  what  fate  awaits  the  Duke  of  Suffolk? 
By  water  shall  he  die,  and  take  his  end. — 
What  shall  betide  the  Duke  of  Somerset  ? 
Let  him  shun  castles  ; 

I.  i66.  (K.H.vi.ao, 


A^JI/.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scene  r. 

Safer  shall  he  be  upon  the  sandy  plains 

Than  where  castles  mounted  stand." 

Come,  come,  my  lord  ; 

These  oracles  are  hardly  attain'd, 

And  hardly  understood. 

The  king  is  now  in  progress  towards  Saint  Alban's, 

With  him  the  husband  of  this  lovely  lady  : 

Thither  go  these  news,  as  fast  as  horse  can  carry  them, — 

A  sorry  breakfast  for  my  lord  protector. 

Buck.  Your  grace   shall  give  me    leave,  my    Lord  of 

York, 
To  be  the  post,  in  hope  of  his  reward. 

York.  At  your  pleasure,  my  good  lord. —  Who's  within 

there,  ho  ! 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Invite  my  Lords  of  Salisbury  and  Warwick 

To  sup  with  me  to-morrow  night. —  Away  !         {^Exeunt. 

ACT  IL 

Scene  L    Saint  Albans. 

Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  Margaret,  Gloster,  Car- 
dinal, and  Suffolk,  wit/i  Falconers  hallooing. 

Q.  Mar.  Believe  me,  lords,  for  flying  at  the  brook, 
I  saw  not  better  sport  these  seven  years'  day  : 
Yet,  by  your  leave,  the  wind  was  very  high  ; 
And,  ten  to  one,  old  Joan  had  not  gone  out. 

A'.  Hen.  But  what  a  point,  my  lord,  your  falcon  made. 
And  what  a  pitch  she  flew  above  the  rest !  — 
To  see  how  God  in  all  his  creatures  works ! 
Yea,  man  and  birds  are  fain  of  climbing  high. 

Sii/.  No  marvel,  an  it  like  your  majesty. 
My  lord  protector's  hawks  do  tower  so  well ; 
They  know  their  master  loves  to  be  aloft. 
And  bears  his  thoughts  above  his  falcon's  pitch. 

G/o.  My  lord,  'tis  but  a  base  ignoble  mind 
That  mounts  no  higher  than  a  bird  can  soar. 

Car.  I  thought  as  much  :  he'd  be  above  the  clouds. 

Glo.  Ay,  my  lord  cardinal. —  how  think  you  by  that  ? 
Were  it  not  good  your  grace  could  fly  to  heaven  ? 

K.  Hen.  The  treasury  of  everlasting  joy  ! 

Car.  Thy  heaven  is  on  earth  ;  thine  eyes  and  thoughts 

K.H.VI.2I.]  I.   167. 


A ci  //.]  TNE  SECOND  VA R T  OF  \_Scene  i 

Beat  on  a  crown,  the  treasure  of  thy  heart ; 

Pernicious  protector,  dangerous  peer, 

That  smooth'st  it  so  with  king  and  commonweal ! 

Glo.  What,  cardinal,  is  your  priesthood  grown  peremp- 
tory ? 
Tantcene  cmunis  avlestibus  ircp  ? 
Churchmen  so  hot  ?  good  uncle,  hide  such  malice; 
For  with  such  holiness  well  can  you  do  it. 

Siif.  No  malice,  sir;  no  more  than  well  becomes 
So  good  a  quarrel  and  so  bad  a  peer. 

Glo.  As  who,  my  lord  ? 

Siif.  Why,  as  you,  my  lord. 

An't  like  your  lordly  lord-protectorship. 

Glo.  Why,  Suffolk,  England  knows  thine  insolence. 

Q.  Mar.  And  thy  ambition,  Gloster. 

K.  Hen.  I  prithee,  peace, 

Good  queen,  and  whet  not  on  these  furious  peers ; 
For  blessed  are  the  peacemakers  on  earth. 

Car.  Let  me  be  blessed  for  the  peace  I  make, 
Against  this  proud  protector,  with  my  sword  ! 

Glo.  [aside  to   Car.]  Faith,  holy  uncle,  would    'twere 
come  to  that ! 

Car.  [aside  to  Glo.]  Marry,  when  thou  dar'st. 

Glo.  [aside  to  Car.]  Make  up  no  factious  numbers  for 
the  matter; 
In  thine  own  person  answ^er  thy  abuse. 

Car.  [aside  to  Glo.]  Ay,  where  thou  dar'st  not  peep : 
an  if  thou  dar'st. 
This  evening  on  the  east  side  of  the  grove. 

K.  Hen.  How  now,  my  lords  ! 

Car.  Believe  me,  cousin  Gloster, 

Had  not  your  man  put  up  the  fowl  so  suddenb'. 
We  had  had    more  sport. —  [Aside  to  Glo.]  Come  with 
thy  two-hand  sword. 

Glo.  True,  uncle. 

Car.  [aside  to  Glo.]  Are  ye  advis'd.-*  —  the  east  side  of 
the  gro\-e  .'' 

Glo.  [aside  to  Car.]  Cardinal,  I  am  with  you. 

K.  Hen.  Why,  how  now,  uncle  Gloster  I 

Glo.  Talking  of  hawking  ;  nothing  else,  my  lord. — 
[Aside  to  Car.]  Now%  by  God's  mother,  priest.  I'll  shave 

your  crown 
For  this,  or  all  my  fence  shall  fail. 

I.    l68.  [k.H.VI.22. 


Act  IL]  KIXG  HENRY  Vl.  {,Scene  I. 

Car.  \aside  to  Glo.]  Medice,  teipsum , 
Protector,  see  to't  well,  protect  yourself. 

K.  Hen.  The  winds  grow  high  ;  so  do  your  stomachs, 
lords. 
How  irksome  is  this  music  to  my  heart ! 
When  such  strings  jar,  what  hope  of  harmony  ? 
I  pray,  my  lords,  let  me  compound  this  strife. 

Enter  a  Townsman  of  Saint  Albans,  crying  "  A 
miracle  !  " 

G/o.  What  means  this  noise  ? 
Fellow,  what  miracle  dost  thou  proclaim  ? 

Towns.  A  miracle  !  a  miracle  ! 

Suf.  Come  to  the  king,  and  tell  him  what  miracle. 

To7uns.  Forsooth,  a  blind  man  at  Saint  Alban's  shrine, 
Within  this  half-hour,  hath  receiv'd  his  sight ; 
A  man  that  ne'er  saw  in  his  life  before. 

K.  Hen.  Now,  God  be  prais'd,  that  to  believing  souls 
Gives  light  in  darkness,  comfort  in  despair! 

Enter  the  Mayor  of  Saint  A/ban's  and  his  brethren  ; 
and  SiMPCOX,  borne  betiueen  tivo  persons 
in  a  chair,  his  Wife  and  a  multi- 
tude  follox<.'iiig. 

Car.  Here  come  the  townsmen  on  procession, 
To  present  your  highness  with  the  man. 

K.  Hen.  Great  is  his  comfort  in  this  earthly  vale. 
Though  by  his  sight  his  sin  be  multiplied. 

Glo.  Stand  by,  my  masters  :  —  bring  him  near  the  king  ; 
His  highness'  pleasure  is  to  talk  with  him. 

K.  Hen.  Good  fellow,  tell  us  here  the  circumstance, 
That  we  for  thee  may  glorify  the  Lord. 
What,  hast  thou  been  long  blind,  and  now  restor'd .? 

Simp.  Born  blind,  an't  please  your  grac  -. 

Wife.  Ay,  indeed  was  he. 

Suf.  What  woman's  this  .'' 

Wife.  His  wife,  an't  like  your  worship. 

Glo.  Hadst  thou  been  his   mother,  thou  couldst  have 
better  told. 

A    Hen.  Where  wert  thou  born .' 

Siinp.   At  Berwick  in  the  north,  an't  like  your  grace. 

K.  Hen.  Poor  soul,  God's  goodness  hath  been  great  to 
thee  : 

K.H.V1.23.]  1. 169. 


Act  11.]  TUK  SKCOi\l>  rAKT  OF  [Scene  I. 

Let  never  day  nor  night  unhallow'd  pass, 
But  still  remember  what  the  Lord  hath  done. 

Q.  Mar.  Tell  me,  good   fellow,   cam'st   thou  here  by 
chance. 
Or  of  devotion,  to  this  holy  shrine? 

Simp.   God  knows,  of  pure  devotion  ;  being  call'd 
A  hundred  times  and  oftener,  in  my  sleep. 
By  good  Saint  Alban  ;  who  said,  "  Simpcox,  come, — 
Come,  offer  at  my  shrine,  and  I  will  help  thee." 

Wife.  Most  true,  forsooth  ;  and  many  time  and  oft 
Myself  have  heard  a  voice  to  call  him  so. 

Car.  What,  art  thou  lame  ? 

Simp.  Ay,  God  Almighty  help  me  ! 

Suf.  How  cam'st  thou  so? 

Simp.  A  fall  off  a  tree. 

Wife.  A  plum-tree,  master. 

Glo.  How  long  hast  thou  been  blind  ? 

Simp.  O,  born  so,  master. 

Glo.  What,  and  wouldst  climb  a  tree  ? 

Simp.  But  that  in  all  my  life,  when  1  was  a  youth. 

Wife.  Too  true  ;  and  bought  his  climbing  very  dear. 

Glo.  Mass,  thou  lov'dst  plums  well,  that  wouldst  ven- 
ture so. 

Simp.  Alas,    good     master,    my    wife    desir'd    some 
damsons. 
And  made  me  climb,  with  danger  of  my  life. 

6^/13.  A  subtle  knave  !  but  yet  it  shall  not  serve. — 
Let  me  see  thine  eyes  :  —  wink  now  ;  —  now  open  them  :  — 
In  my  opinion  yet  thou  see'st  not  well. 

Simp.  Yes,   master,  clear  as  day,    I    thank    God  and 
Saint  Alban. 

Glo.  Say'st  thou  me  so?     What  color  is  this  cloak  of  ? 

Simp.  Red,  master;  red  as  blood. 

Glo.  Why,  that's  well   said.     What   color  is  my  gown 
of? 

Simp.  Black,  forsooth  ;  coal-black  as  jet. 

K.  Hen.  Why,  then,  thou  know'st  what  color  jet  is  of? 

Suf.   And  yet,  1  think,  jet  did  he  never  see. 

Glo.  But  cloaks  and  gowns,  before  this  day,  a  many. 

IVife.  Never,  before  this  day,  in  all  his  life. 

Glo.  Tell  me,  sirrah,  what's  my  name? 

Simp.  Alas,  master,  1  know  not. 

Glo.  What's  his  name  ? 

I.  170.  £K.H.VI.a4 


Act  rr.'\  KING  HENRY  ri.  [Scene  I. 

Simp.  I  know  not. 

Glo.  Nor  his  ? 

Simp.  No,  indeed,  master. 

Glo.  What's  thine  own  name  ? 

Simp.  Saunder  Simpcox,  an  if  it  please  you,  master. 

Glo.  Then,  Saunder.  sit  there,  the  lyingest  knave  in 
Christendom.  If  thou  hadst  been  born  bhnd,  thoi 
mightst  as  well  have  known  all  our  names  as  thus  to 
name  the  several  colors  we  do  wear.  Sight  may  distin- 
guish of  colors  ;  but  suddenly  to  nominate  them  all,  it  is 
impossible. —  My  lords.  Saint  Alban  here  hath  done  a 
miracle  ;  and  would  ye  not  think  his  cunning  to  be  grea^ 
that  could  restore  this  cripple  to  his  legs  again  } 

Simp.  O  master,  that  you  could  ! 

Glo.  My  master  of  Saint  Alban 's,  have  you  not  beadles 
in  your  town,  and  things  called  whips  ? 

May.  Yes,  my  lord,  if  it  please  your  grace. 

Glo.  Then  send  for  one  presently. 

May.  Sirrah,  go  fetch  the  beadle  hither  straight. 

\^Exit  an  Attciidanl. 

Glo.  How  fetch  me  a  stool  hither  by  and  by.  \A  stool 
brought  out.]  Now,  sirrah,  if  you  mean  to  save  yourself 
from  whipping,  leap  over  this  stool  and  run  away. 

Simp.  Alas,  master,  I  am  not  able  to  stand  alone : 
You  go  about  to  torture  me  in  vain. 

Re-enter  Attendant,  with  the  Beadle. 

Glo.  Well,  sir,  we  must  have  you  find  your  legs. —  Sir- 
rah beadle,  whip  him  till  he  leap  over  that  same  stool. 

Bead.  I  will,  my  lord. —  Come  on,  sirrah  ;  off  with 
your  doublet  quickly. 

Simp.  Alas,  master,  what  shall  I  do  ?  I  am  not  able  to 
stand. 

[After  the  Beadle  hath  hit  him  once,  he  leaps  over 
the  stool  and  runs  away  ;  and  the  people  follo7V 
and  cry,  "  A  miracle  !  " 

K.  Hen.  O  God,  seest  thou  this,  and   bear'st   so  long  ? 

Q.  Mar.   It  made  me  laugh  to  see  the  villain  run. 

Glo.  Follow  the  knave  ;  and  take  this  drab  away. 
Wife.  Alas.  sir.  we  did  it  for  pure  need. 

Glo.  Let  them  be  whipped  through  everv  market-town 
till  they  come  to  Berwick,  from  whence  they  came. 

\ Exeunt  Mayor,  Beadle,  Wife,  &^c 

K.H.V1.25.]  I.  171. 


Act  //.']  THE  SECOXD  TA  K  T  OF  \Scene  I. 

Car.  Duke  Humphrey  has  done  a  miracle  to-day. 
Suf.  True  ;  made  the  lame  to  leap  and  fly  away. 
Gio.  But  you  have  done  more  miracles  than  I  ; 
You  made  in  a  day,  my  lord,  whole  towns  to  fly. 

Enter  BUCKINGHAM. 

K.  Hen.  What  tidings  with  our  cousin   Buckingham  ? 

Buck.  Such  as  my  heart  doth  tiemble  to  unfold. 
A  sort  of  naughty  persons,  lewdly  bent, — 
Under  the  countenance  and  confederacy 
Of  Lady  Eleanoi,  the  protector's  wife. 
The  ringleader  and  head  of  all  this  rout, — 
Have  practic'd  dangerously  against  your  state. 
Dealing  with  witches  and  with  conjurers : 
Whom  we  have  apprehended  in  the  fact ; 
Raising  up  wicked  spirits  from  under  ground, 
Demanding  of  King  Henry's  life  and  death. 
And  other  of  your  highness'  privy-council ; 
As  more  at  large  your  grace  shall  understand. 

Car.  And  so,  my  lord  protector,  by  this  means 
Your  lady  is  forthcoming  yet  at  London. 
[Aside  to  Glostcr^  This  news,  I  think,  hath    turned  your 

weapon's  edge; 
'Tis  like,  my  lord,  you  will  not  keep  your  hour. 

Glo.  Ambitious  churchman,  leave  t' afflict  my  heart: 
Sorrow  and  grief  have  vanquish  d  all  my  powers  ; 
And,  vanquish'd  as  I  am,  I  yield  to  thee, 
Or  to  the  meanest  groom. 

K.  Hen.  O  God,  what  mischiefs  work  the  wicked  ones, 
Heaping  confusion  on  their  own  heads  thereby  I 

Q.  Mar.  Gloster,  see  here  the  tainture  of  thy  nest; 
And  look  thyself  be  faultless,  thou  wert  best. 

Glo.  Madam,  for  myself,  to  heaven  I  do  appeal, 
How  I  have  lov'd  my  king  and  commonweal : 
And,  for  my  wife,  I  know  not  how  it  stands  ; 
Sorry  I  am  to  hear  what  1  have  heard  : 
Noble  she  is ;  but  if  she  have  forgot 
Honor  and  virtue,  and  convers'd  with  such 
As,  like  to  pitch,  defile  nol)ility, 
I  banish  her  my  bed  and  company, 
And  give  her,  as  a  prey,  to  law  and  shame. 
That  hath  dishonor'd  Gloster's  honest  name. 

K.  Hen.   Well,  for  this  night  we  will  repose  us  here  : 

1.  i;2.  [K.H.VI.26. 


ActTI^  KING  HEXRY  VI.  [Scene  ri. 

To-morrow  toward  London  back  again, 
To  look  into  this  business  thoroughly, 
And  call  these  foul  offenders  to  their  answers; 
And  poise  the  cause  in  justice'  equal  scales, 
Whose  beam  stands  sure,  whose   rightful  cause  prevails. 

\Fhrurish.      Exeunt. 

Scene  II.     London.      The  Duke  of  WOKV^'S garden. 
Enter  YORK,  Salisbury,  atui  Warwick. 

York.  Now,  my  good   Lords  of  Salisbury  and   War- 
wick, 
Our  simple  supper  ended,  give  me  leave, 
In  this  close  walk,  to  satisfy  myself, 
In  craving  your  opinion  of  my  title, 
Which  is  infallible,  to  England's  crown. 

Sal.  My  lord,  I  long  to  hear  it  at  full. 

War.  Sweet  York,  begin  :  an  if  thy  claim  be  good, 
The  Nevils  are  thy  subjects  to  command. 

York.  Then  thus  :  — 
Edward  the  Third,  my  lords,  had  seven  sons: 
The  first,  Edward  the  Black  Prince,  Prince  of  Wales; 
The  second,  William  of  Hatfield  ;  and  the  third, 
Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence ;  next  to  whom 
Was  John  of  Gaunt,  the  Duke  of  Lancaster ; 
The  fifth  was  Edmund  Langley,  Duke  of  York  ; 
The  sixth  was  Thomas  of  Woodstock,  Duke  of  Gloster; 
William  of  Windsor  was  the  seventh  and  last. 
Edward  the  Black  Prince  died  before  his  father  ; 
And  left  behind  him  Richard,  his  only  son, 
Who,  after  Edward  the  Third's  death,  reign'd  as  king; 
Till  Henry  Bolingbroke,  Duke  of  Lancaster, 
The  eldest  son  and  heir  of  John  of  Gaunt, 
Crown'd  by  the  name  of  Henry  the  Fourth, 
Seized  on  the  realm,  depos'd  the  rightful  king. 
Sent  his  poor  q>ieen  to  France,  from  whence  she  came, 
And  him  to  Pomfret, —  where,  as  all  you  know, 
Harmless  Richard  was  murder'd  traitorously. 

War.  Father,  the  duke  hath  told  the  very  truth  ; 
Thus  got  the  house  of  Lancaster  the  crown. 

York.  Which  now  they  hold  by  force,  and  not  by  right : 
For  Richard,  the  first  son's  heir,  being  dead, 
The  issue  of  the  next  son  should  have  reign'd. 
K.H.V1.27.]  1. 173. 


Act  rr.\  THE  SECOND  PART  OF  \Scene  II. 

Sal.  But  William  of  Hatfit-ld  died  without  an  heir. 

York.  The  third  son,  Duke  of  Clarence,— from  whose 
line 
;  claim  the  crown, —  had  issue,  Philippe,  a  daughter, 
Who  married  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March  : 
Edmund  had  issue,  Roger  Earl  of  March  ; 
Rog^er  had  issue,  Edmund,  Anne,  and  l^leanor. 

Sal.  This  Edmund,  in  the  reign  of  Bolingbroke, 
As  I  have  read,  laid  claim  unto  the  crown  ; 
And,  but  for  Owen  Glendower,  had  been  king, 
Who  kept  him  in  captivity  till  he  died. 
But  to  the  rest. 

York.  His  eldest  sister,  Anne, 

My  mother,  being  heir  unto  the  crown, 
Married  Richard  Earl  of  Cambridge  ;  who  was  son 
To  Edmund  Langley,  Edward  the  Third's  fifth  son. 
By  her  I  claim  the  kingdom  :  she  was  heir 
To  Roger  Earl  of  March  ;  who  was  the  son 
Of  Edmund  Mortimer;  who  married  Philippe, 
Sole  daughter  unto  Lionel  Duke  of  Clarence  : 
So,  if  the  issue  of  the  elder  son 
Succeed  before  the  younger,  I  am  king. 

War.  What  plain  proceeding  is  more  plain  than  this  .' 
Henry  doth  claim  the  crown  from  John  of  Gaunt, 
The  fourth  son  ;  while  York  claims  it  from  the  third. 
Till  Lionel's  issue  fails,  his  should  not  reign  : 
It  fails  not  yet,  but  flourishes  in  thee. 
And  in  thy  sons,  fair  slips  of  such  a  stock. — 
Then,  father  Salisbury,  kneel  we  together; 
And,  in  this  private  plot,  be  we  the  first 
That  shall  salute  our  rightful  sovereign 
With  honor  of  his  birthright  to  the  crown. 

Both.    Long   live    our   sovereign    Richard,    England's 
king  ! 

York.  We  thank  you,  lords.     But  I  am  not  your  king 
Till  I  be  crown'd,  and  that  my  sword  be  stain 'd 
With  heart-blood  of  the  house  of  Lancaster  ; 
And  that's  not  suddenly  to  be  perform 'd, 
But  with  advice  and  silent  secrecy. 
Do  you  as  I  do  in  these  dangerous  days  : 
Wink  at  the  Duke  of  Suffolk's  insolence. 
At  Beaufort's  pride,  at  Somerset's  ambition. 
At  Buckingham,  and  all  the  crew^  of  them, 

1. 174.  [K.H.V1.28. 


A  ct  II.  ]  KING  HENR  \ '  I'l.  [Scene  III, 

Till  they  have  snar'd  the  shepherd  of  the  flock, 
That  virtuous  prince,  the  good  Duke  Humphrey : 
'Tis  that  they  seek  ;  and  they,  in  seeking  that, 
Shall  find  their  deaths,  if  York  can  prophesy. 

Sal,  My  lord,  break  we  off ;  we  know  your  mind  at  full. 

War.  My  heart  assures  me  that  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
Shall  one  day  make  the  Duke  of  York  a  king. 

York.  And,  Nevil,  this  I  do  assure  myself, — ■ 
Richard  shall  live  to  make  the  Earl  of  Warwick 
The  greatest  man  in  England  but  the  king.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  III.      The  same.     A  hall  of  justice. 

Trumpets  sounded.     Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  Mar- 
garet, Gloster,  York,  Suffolk,  and  Salis- 
bury; the  Duchess  of  Gloster,  Margery 
Jourdain,   Southwell,  Hume,  and 
BolINGBROKE,  under  guard. 

K.  Hen.  Stand  forth,  Dame  Eleanor  Cobham,  Gloster's 
wife  ; 
In  sight  of  God  and  us,  your  guilt  is  great  : 
Receive  the  sentence  of  the  law,  for  sins 
Such  as  by  God's  book  are  adjudg'd  to  death. — 
\To  Jourdain,  cSr^r.]  You  four,  from  hence  to  prison  back 

again  ; 
From  thence  unto  the  place  of  execution  : 
The  witch  in  Smithfield  shall  be  burn'd  to  ashes, 
And  you  three  shall  be  strangled  on  the  gallows. — 
You,  madam,  for  you  are  more  nobly  born, 
Despoiled  of  your  honor  in  your  life, 
Shall,  after  three  days'  open  penance  done, 
Live  in  your  country  here,  in  banishment. 
With  Sir  John  Stanley,  in  the  Isle  of  Man. 

Duch.  Welcome    is    banishment ;    welcome    were  my 
death. 

Glo.  Eleanor,  the  law,  thou   seest,  hath  judged  thee  : 
I  cannot  justify  whom  the  law  condemns. — 
[Exeunt  the  Duchess  and  the  other  prisoners,  guarded. 
Mine  eyes  are  full  of  tears,  my  heart  of  grief. 
Ah,  Humphrey,  this  dishonor  in  thine  age 
Will  bring  thy  head  with  sorrow  to  the  ground  !  — 
Beseech  your  majesty,  give  me  leave  to  go  ; 
Sorrow  would  solace,  and  mine  age  would  ease. 

K.H.Vl.aq.J  I.  175. 


Act  //.]  T///:  SjrCOXD  part  of  \^S<.ene  III, 

K.  He)i.  Stay,  Huiuphrey  Dukf  of  Gloster  ;  ere  thou  go, 
Give  up  thy  staff:  Ht-nry  will  to  himself 
Protector  be  ;  and  God  shall  be  my  hope, 
My  stay,  my  guide,  and  lantern  to  my  feet : 
And  go  in  peace,  Humphrey,— no  less  belov'd 
Than  when  thou  wert  protector  to  thy  king. 

Q.  Ma}-.  I  see  no  reason  why  a  king  of  years 
Should  be  to  be  protected  like  a  child. — 
God  and  King  Henry  govern  England's  helm  !  — 
Give  up  your  staff,  sir,  and  the  king  his  realm. 

Glo.  My  staff !  here,  noble  Henry,  is  my  staff : 
As  willingly  do  I  the  same  resign 
As  e'er  thy  father  Henry  made  it  mine; 
And  even  as  willingly  at  thy  feet  I  leave  it 
As  others  would  ambitiously  receive  it. 
Farewell,  good  king:  when  I  am  dead  and  gone. 
May  honorable  peace  attend  thy  throne  !  {Exit, 

Q.  Mar.    Why,    now    is    Henry   king,    and    Margaret 
queen  ; 
And  Humphrey  Duke  of  Gloster  scarce  himself. 
That  bears  so  shrewd  a  maim  ;  two  pulls  at  once, — 
His  lady  banish'd,  and  a  limb  lopp'd  off; 
This  staff  of  honor  raught,  there  let  it  stand 
Where  it  best  fits  to  be, —  in  Henry's  hand. 

Suf.  Thus  droops  this  lofty  pine,  and  hangs  his  sprays  ; 
Thus  Eleanor's  pride  dies  in  her  youngest  days. 

York.  Lords,  let  him  go. —  Please  it  your  majesty, 
This  is  the  day  appointed  for  the  combat ; 
And  ready  are  th'  appellant  and  defendant. 
The  armorer  and  his  man,  to  enter  the  lists. 
So  please  your  highness  to  behold  the  fight. 

Q.  Afar.  Ay,  good  my  lord  ;  for  purposely  therefore 
Left  I  the  court,  to  see  this  quarrel  tried. 

K.  Hen.  O'  God's  name,  see  the  lists  and  all  things  fit; 
Here  let  them  end  it  ;  and  God  defend  the  right ! 

York.  I  never  saw  a  fellow  worse  bested, 
Or  more  afraid  to  iight,  than  is  th'  appellant. 
The  servant  of  this  armorer,  my  lords. 


1. 176.  [K.H.V1.30 


A  .-t  //.]  KJXG  HEXR  y  17.  [Scene  III 

Enter  on  one  side,   Horner,  bearing  his  staff  with  a 

sand-bag  fastened  to  it,  and  a  drum  before  him  ; 

and  accompanied  by  his  Neighbors,  w^t;  ^r/«>& 

to  him  so  much  that  he  becomes  drunk: 

enter,  on  the  other  side,  Peter,  with  a 

similar  staff  and  a  drum  ;  and 

accompanied    by  Prentices 

dri/iking  to  him. 

First  Neigh.  Here,  neighbor  Horner,  I  drink  to  you 

in  a  cup  of  sack  :  and  fear  not,   neighbor,  you  shall  do 

well  enough. 

Sec.  Neigh.  And  here,  neighbor,  here's  a  cup  of  char- 
neco. 

Third  Neigh.  And  here's  a  pot  of  good  double-beer, 
neighbor :  drink,  and  fear  not  your  man. 

Hor.  Let  it  come,  i'  faith,  and  I'll  pledge  you  all  ;  and 
a  fig  for  Peter. 

First  Pren.  Here,  Peter,  I  drink  to  thee  :  and  be  not 
afraid. 

Sec.  Pren.  Be  merry,  Peter,  and  fear  not  thy  master : 
fight  for  credit  of  the  prentices. 

Peter.  I  thank  you  all  ;  drink,  and  pray  for  me,  I  pray 
you  ;  for  I  think  I  have  taken  my  last  draught  in  this 
world. —  Here,  Robin,  an  if  I  die,   I  give  thee  my  apron  ; 

—  and.  Will,  thou  shalt  have  my  hammer: — -and  here, 
Tom,  take  all  the  money  that  I  have. —  O  Lord  bless  me, 
I  pray  God  !  for  I  am  never  able  to  deal  with  my  master, 
he  hath  learnt  so  much  fence  already. 

Sal.  Come,  leave  your  drinking,  and  fall  to  blows. — 
Sirrah,  what's  thy  name  .'* 

Peter.  Peter,  forsooth. 

Sal.  Peter  !  what  more  } 

Peter.  Thump. 

Sal.  Thump !  then  see  thou  thump  thy  master  well. 

Hor.  Masters,  I  am  come  hither,  as  it  were,  upon  my 
man's  instigation,  to  prove  him  a  knave,  and  myself  an 
honest  man  ;  and  touching  the  Duke  of  York,  I  will  take 
my  death,  I  never  meant  him  any  ill,  nor  the  king,  nor 
the  queen ;  and  therefore,  Peter,  have  at  thee  with  a 
downright  blow! 

York.  Dispatch  :  — this  knave's  tongue  begins  to  double. 

—  Sound,  trumpets,  'larum  to  the  combatants  ! 
[Alarum.    They  fight,  and  Peter  strikes  down  Horner. 

U.H.Vi.Jl.J  I.  177. 


Act  II.]  THE  S£CO\D  PART  OF  [Scene  IV. 

Hor,  Hold,  Peter,  hold  I  I  confess,  I  confess  treason. 

{Dies. 

York.  Take  away  his  weapon.—  Fellow,  thank  God, 
and  the  good  wine  in  thy  master's  way. 

Peter.  O  God,  have  I   overcome  mine  enemy  in  this 
presence  }  O  Peter,  thou  hast  prevailed  in  right  ! 

A'.  Hen.    Go    and    take    hence    that    traitor    from  ou) 
sight ; 
For  by  his  death  we  do  perceive  his  guilt  : 
And  God  in  justice  hath  reveal'd  to  us 
The  truth  and  innocence  of  this  poor  fellow, 
Which  he  had  thought  t'  have  murder'd  wrongfully.-^ 
Come,  fellow,  follow  us  for  thy  reward.  \Flourish.  Exeunt, 

Scene  IV.     The  same.      A  street. 
Enter  Gloster  and  Servants,  /'//  nunirntng  cloaks. 

Glo.  Thus  sometimes  hath  the  brightest  day  a  cloud  ; 
And  after  summer  evermore  succeeds 
Barren  winter,  with  his  wrathful-nipping  cold  : 
So  cares  and  joys  abound,  as  seasons  tieet. — 
Sirs,  what's  o'clock  ? 

Serv.  Ten,  my  lord. 

Glo.  Ten  is  the  hour  that  was  appointed  me 
To  watch  the  coming  of  my  punish'd  duchess: 
Uneath  may  she  endure  the  flinty  streets. 
To  tread  them  with  her  tender-feeling  feet. 
Sweet  Nell,  ill  can  thy  noble  mind  abrook 
The  abject  people  gazing  on  thy  face 
With  envious  looks,  still  laughing  at  thy  shame. 
That  erst  did  follow  thy  proud  chariot-wheels 
When  thou  didst  ride  in  triumph  through  the  streets. 
But,  soft  !  I  think  she  comes  ;  and  Fll  prepare 
My  tear-stain'd  eyes  to  see  her  miseries. 

Enter  the  Duchess  of  Gloster  in  a  white  sheet,  with 

papers  pinned  upon  her  back,  her  feet  bare,  and 

a  taper  burning  in  her  hand  ;  Sir  JOHN 

Stanley,  a  Sheriff,  (?//<'/ Officers. 

Serv.  So    please  your  grace,  we'll  take  her  from  the 

sheriff. 
Glo.  No,  stir  not,  for  your  lives;  let  her  pass  by. 
Duch.  Come  you,  my  lord,  to  see  my  open  shame? 

I.  178.  [k.h.vi.3». 


icf/J]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scene  IK 

Now  thou  dost  penance  too.     Look  how  they  gaze ! 

See  how  the  giddy  multitude  do  point, 

And  nod  their  heads,  and  throw  their  eyes  on  thee  1 

Ah,  Gloster,  hide  thee  from  their  hateful  looks, 

And,  in  thy  closet  pent  up,  rue  my  shame. 

And  ban  thine  enemies,  both  mine  and  thine  ! 

G/o.  Be  patient,  gentle  Nell ;  forget  this  grief. 

Duck.  Ah,  Gloster,  teach  me  to  forget  myself  I 
For,  whilst  I  think  I  am  thy  married  wife, 
And  thou  a  prince,  protector  of  this  land, 
Methinks  I  should  not  thus  be  led  along, 
Mail'd  up  in  shame,  with  papers  on  my  back, 
And  follow'd  with  a  rabble,  that  rejoice 
To  see  my  tears  and  hear  my  deep-fet  groans. 
The  ruthless  flint  doth  cut  my  tender  feet ; 
And  whea  I  start,  the  envious  people  laugh. 
And  bid  me  be  ad\'ised  how  I  tread. 
Ah,  Humphrey,  can  I  bear  this  shameful  yoke? 
Trow'st  thou  that  e'er  I'll  look  upon  the  world, 
Or  count  them  happy  that  enjoy  the  sun  ? 
No  ;  dark  shall  be  my  light,  and  night  my  day ; 
To  think  upon  my  pomp  shall  be  my  hell. 
.Sometime  I'll  say,  I  am  Duke  Humphrey's  wife; 
And  he  a  prince,  and  ruler  of  the  land  : 
Yet  so  he  rul'd,  and  such  a  prince  he  was. 
As  he  stood  by,  whilst  I,  his  forlorn  duchess, 
Was  made  a  wonder  and  a  pointing-stock 
To  every^  idle  rascal  follower. 
But  be  thou  mild,  and  blush  not  at  my  shame ; 
Nor  stir  at  nothing,  till  the  ax  of  death 
Hang  over  thee,  as,  sure,  it  shortly  will ; 
For  Suffolk, —  he  that  can  do  all  in  all 
With  her  that  hateth  thee  and  hates  us  all, — 
And  York,  and  impious  Beaufort,  that  false  priest, 
Have  all  lim'd  bushes  to  betray  thy  wings. 
And,  fly  thou  how  thou  canst,  they'll  tangle  thee: 
But  fear  not  thou,  until  thy  foot  be  snar'd, 
Nor  never  seek  prevention  of  thv  foes. 

Glo.  Ah,  Nell,  forbear  I  thou  aimest  all  awry ; 
I  must  offend  before  I  be  attainted  : 
And  had  I  twenty  times  so  many  foes, 
And  each  of  them  had  twenty  times  their  power 
All  these  could  not  procure  me  any  scathe, 

K.H.V1.33.]  1. 179. 


Aci  Ii:\  THE  SECO.\  D  PART  OF  [Scene  fV. 

So  long  as  I  am  loyal,  true,  and  crimeless. 
Wouldst  have  me  rescue  thee  from  this  reproach  ? 
Why,  yet  thy  scandal  were  not  wip'd  away, 
But  I  in  danger  for  the  breach  of  law. 
Thy  greatest  help  is  quiet,  gentle  Nell : 
I  pray  thee,  sort  thy  heart  to  patience  ; 
These  few  days'  wonder  will  be  quickly  worn. 

Enter  a  Herald. 

He7-.  1  summon  your  grace  to  his  majesty's  parliument, 
holden  at  Bury  the  first  of  this  next  month. 

do.  And  my  consent  ne'er  ask'd  herein  before! 
This  is  close  dealing.—  Weil,  I  will  be  there. 

I  Exit  Herald. 
My  Nell,  I  take  my  lea\e:—  and,  master  sheriff, 
Let  not  her  penance  exceed  the  king's  commission. 

SJicr.  An't   please  your   grace,    here    my   commissio* 
stays  ; 
And  Sir  John  Stanley  is  appointed  now 
To  take  her  with  him  to  the  Isle  of  Man. 

Glo.  Must  you.  Sir  John,  protect  my  lady  here? 

Stan.  So  am  I    gi\en    in    charge,    may't    please    your 
grace. 

Glo.  Entreat  her  not  the  worse,  in  that  I  pray 
You  use  her  well  :  the  world  may  laugh  again  ; 
And  1  may  live  to  do  you  kindness,  if 
You  do  it  her  :  and  so,  Sir  John,  farewell. 

Duch.  What,  gone,  my  lord,  and  bid  me  not  farewell  ! 

Glo.  Witness  my  tears,  I  cannot  stay  to  speak. 

\Excunt  Glostcr  and  Servants. 

Duch.  Art  thou  gone  too?  all  comfort  go  with  thee  I 
For  none  abides  with  me  :  my  joy  is  death, — 
Death,  at  whose  name  I  oft  have  been  afeard, 
Because  I  wish'd  this  world's  eternity.— 
Stanley,  I  prithee,  go.  and  take  me  hence  ; 
I  care  not  whither,  for  I  beg  no  favor. 
Only  convey  me  where  thou  art  commanded. 

Stan.  Why,  madam,  that  is  to  the  Isle  of  Man; 
There  to  be  us'd  according  to  your  state. 

Duch.  That's  bad  enough,  for  I  am  but  reproach, — 
And  shall  I,  then,  be  us'd  reproachfully? 

Stan.  Like  to  a  duchess,  and  Duke  Humphrey's  lady ; 
According  to  that  state  you  shall  be  us'd. 

I.  1 80.  tK.H.vi.34. 


Act  III. "]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scent  I 

Duck.  Sheriff,  farewell,  and  better  than  I  fare, — 
Although  thou  hast  been  conduct  of  my  shame. 

Sltcr.   It  is  my  office ;  and,  madam,  pardon  me. 

Diich.  Ay,  ay,  farewell  ;  thy  office  is  discharg'd. — 
Come,  Stanley,  shall  we  go  } 

Stan.  Madam,  your  penance  done,  throw  off  this  sheet, 
And  go  we  to  attire  you  for  our  journey. 

Duch.  My  shame  will  not  be  shifted  with  my  sheet : 
No,  it  will  hang  upon  my  richest  robes. 
And  show  itself,  r.ttire  ine  how  I  can. 
Go.  lead  the  way ;  I  long  to  see  my  prison.      [Exeun/. 

ACT  III. 

Scene  I.      Tke  Abbey  at  Bury  St,  Edmund's. 

Sennet.      Enter,    to    the    Parliament,     King     HENRY, 
Queen  Margaret,  Cardinal  Beaufort,  Suf- 
folk, York,  Buckingham,  and  others. 

K.  Hen.   I  muse  my  Loid  of  Gloster  is  not  come : 
'Tis  not  his  wont  to  be  the  hindmost  man, 
Whate'er  occasion  keeps  him  from  us  now. 

(2-  Mar.  Can  you  not  see?  or  will  \e  not  observe 
The  strangeness  of  his  alter'd  countenance  ? 
With  what  a  majesty  he  bears  himself; 
How  insolent  of  late  he  is  become. 
How  proud,  peremptory,  and  unlike  himself.? 
We  know  the  time  since  he  was  mild  and  affable; 
And,  if  we  did  but  glance  a  far-off  look, 
Immediately  he  was  upon  his  knee. 
That  all  the  court  admir'd  him  for  submission  : 
But  meet  him  now,  and,  be  it  in  the  morn. 
When  every  one  will  give  the  time  of  day. 
He  knits  his  brow,  and  shows  an  angry  eye, 
And  passeth  by  with  stiff  unbowed  knee. 
Disdaining  duty  that  to  us  belongs. 
Small  curs  are  not  regarded  when  they  grin  ; 
But  great  men  tremble  when  the  lion  roars, — 
And  Humphrey  is  no  little  man  in  England. 
First  note,  that  he  is  near  you  in  descent  ; 
Anrl,  should  you  fall,  he  is  the  next  will  mount 
Me  seemeth,  then,  it  is  no  policy, — 
Respecting  what  a  rancorous  mind  he  bears, 
K.H.V1.33.]  1. 181. 


Act  in:\  THE  SECOND  PART  OF  \Sceni  I 

And  his  advantage  following  your  decease, — 

That  he  should  come  about  your  royal  person, 

Or  be  admitted  to  your  highness'  council. 

By  flattery  hath  he  won  the  commons'  hearts; 

And  when  he  please  to  make  commotion, 

'Tis  to  be  fear'd  they  all  will  follow  him. 

Now  'tis  the  spring,  and  weeds  are  shallow-rooted  ; 

Suffer  them  now,  and  they'll  o'ergrow  the  garden, 

And  choke  the  herbs  for  want  of  husbandry. 

The  reverent  care  1  bear  unto  my  lord 

Made  me  collect  these  dangers  in  the  duke. 

If  it  be  fond,  call  it  a  woman's  fear  ; 

Which  fear  if  better  reasons  can  supplant, 

I  will  subscribe,  and  say  I  wrong'd  the  duke. — 

My  lords  of  Suffolk,  Buckingham,  and  York, 

Reprove  my  allegation,  if  you  can  ; 

Or  else  conclude  my  words  effectual. 

Stif.  Well  hath  your  highness  seen  into  this  duke; 
And,  had  I  first  been  put  to  speak  my  mind, 
I  think  I  should  have  told  your  grace's  tale. 
The  duchess,  by  his  subornation. 
Upon  my  life,  began  her  devilish  practices : 
Or,  if  he  were  not  privy  to  those  faults, 
Yet,  by  reputing  of  his  high  descent, — 
As,  next  the  king,  he  was  successive  heir, 
And  such  high  vaunts  of  his  nobility, — 
Did  instigate  the  bedlam  brain-sick  duchess 
By  wicked  means  to  frame  our  sovereign's  fall. 
Smooth  runs  the  water  where  the  brook  is  deep  ; 
And  in  his  simple  show  he  harbors  treason. 
The  fox  barks  not  when  he  would  steal  the  lamb. 
No,  no,  my  sovereign  ;  Gloster  is  a  man 
Unsounded  yet,  and  full  of  deep  deceit. 

Car.  Did  he  not,  contrary  to  form  of  law. 
Devise  strange  deaths  for  small  offenses  done  ? 

York.  And  did  he  not,  in  his  protectorship, 
Levy  great  sums  of  money  through  the  realm 
For  soldiers'  pay  in  France,  and  never  sent  it  } 
By  means  whereof  the  towns  each  day  revolted. 

Buck.  Tut,  these  are  petty  faults  to  faults   unknovt'n, 
Which  time  will  bring  to  light  in  smooth  Duke  Hum- 
phrey. 

K.  Hen.  My  lords,  at  once  :  —  the  care  you  have  of  us, 

1. 1S2.  [K.H.V1.36. 


Actin:\  KING  HENRY  Vl.  [Scene  i. 

To  mow  down  thorns  that  would  annoy  our  foot, 

Is  worthy  praise  ;  but  —  shall  I  speak  my  conscience  ?  — 

Our  kinsman  Gloster  is  as  innocent 

From  meaning  treason  to  our  royal  person 

As  is  the  sucking  lamb  or  harmless  dove  : 

The  duke  is  virtuous,  mild,  and  too  well  given 

To  dream  on  evil,  or  to  work  my  downfall. 

Q.  Mar.  Ah,  what's  more  dangerous  than  this  fond 
affiance! 
Seems  he  a  dove  ?  his  feathers  are  but  borrow'd, 
For  he's  disposed  as  the  hateful  raven  : 
Is  he  a  lamb  ?  his  skin  is  surely  lent  him. 
For  he's  inclin'd  as  is  the  ravenous  wolf. 
Who  cannot  steal  a  shape  that  means  deceit  ? 
Take  heed,  my  lord ;  the  welfare  of  us  all 
Hangs  on  the  cutting  short  that  fraudful  man. 

Enter  Somerset. 

Som.  All  health  unto  my  gracious  sovereign  ! 

K.  Hen.  Welcome,  Lord  Somerset.     What  news  from 

France  ? 
Som.  That  all  your  interest  in  those  territories 
Is  utterly  bereft  you  ;  all  is  lost. 

K.  Hen.  Cold  news.  Lord  Somerset  :  but  God's  will  be 

done  ! 
York,  [aside]  Cold  news  for  me ;  for  I   had  hope  ot 
France 
As  firmly  as  I  hope  for  fertile  England. 
Thus  are  my  blossoms  blasted  in  the  bud, 
And  caterpillars  eat  my  leaves  away  : 
But  I  will  remedy  this  gear  ere  long. 
Or  sell  my  title  for  a  glorious  grave. 

Eftter  Gloster. 

G/o.  All  happiness  unto  my  lord  the  king ! 
Pardon,  my  liege,  that  1  have  stay'd  so  long. 

Suf.  Nay,  Gloster,  know  that  thou  art  come  too  soon, 
Unless  thou  wert  more  loyal  than  thou  art : 
I  do  arrest  thee  of  high  treason  here. 

Glo.  Well,  Suffolk,  well,  thou  shalt  not  see  me  blush 
Nor  change  mv  countenance  for  this  arrest : 
A  heart  unspotted  is  not  easily  daunted. 
The  purest  spring  is  not  so  free  from  mud 

K.H.Vl.1,7.]  I     1°    ■ 


Act  III. '\  TirS  SECO.KD  PART  OF  {Scene  I. 

As  I  am  clear  from  treason  to  my  sovereign : 
Who  can  accuse  me  ?  wherein  am  I  guilty  ? 

York.  'Tis  thought,  my  lord,  that  you  took  bribes  of 
France, 
And,  being  protector,  stay'd  the  soldiers'  pay ; 
By  means  whereof  his  highness  hath  lost  France. 

G/o.  Is  it  but  thought  so  ?  what  are  they  that  think  it  ? 
1  never  robb'd  the  soldiers  of  their  pay. 
Nor  ever  had  one  penny  bribe  from  France. 
So  help  me  God,  as  I  have  watch'd  the  night. — 
Ay,  night  by  night, —  in  studving  good  for  England  ! 
That  doit  that  e'er  I  wrested  from  the  king, 
Or  any  groat  I  hoarded  to  my  use. 
Be  brought  against  me  at  my  trial-day  ! 
No  ;  many  a  pound  of  mine  own  proper  store. 
Because  I  would  not  tax  the  needy  commons, 
Have  I  dispursed  to  the  garrisons. 
And  never  ask'd  for  restitution. 

Car.  It  serves  you  well,  my  lord,  to  say  so  much. 

Glo.  I  say  no  more  than  truth,  so  help  me  God  ! 

York.  In  your  protectorship  you  did. devise 
Strange  tortures  for  offenders,  never  heard  of, 
That  England  was  defam'd  by  tyranny. 

G/o.  Why,  'tis  well  known  that,  whiles  I  was  protector; 
Pity  was  all  the  fault  that  was  in  me  ; 
For -I  should  melt  at  an  offenfler's  tears. 
And  lowly  words  were  ransom  for  their  fault. 
Unless  it  were  a  bloody  murderer. 
Or  foul  felonious  thief  that  fleec'd  poor  passengers, 
I  never  gave  them  condign  punishment  : 
.Murder,  indeed,  that  blood}'  sin,  I  tortur'd 
Above  the  felon  or  what  trespass  else. 

Suf.  My  lord,  these  faults  are  easy,  quickly  answer'd  : 
But  mightier  criines  are  laid  unto  your  cl>arge. 
Whereof  you  cannot  easily  purge  yourself. 
1  do  arrest  you  in  his  highness'  name; 
And  here  commit  you  to  my  lord  cardinal 
To  keep,  until  your  further  time  of  trial. 

A'.  Hen.   My  Lord  of  Gloster,  'tis  my  special  hope 
That  you  will  clear  yourself  from  all  susjject  : 
My  conscience  tells  me  you  are  innocent. 

Gh'.  Ah,  gracious  lord,  these  days  are  dangerous! 
Virtue  is  chok'd  with  foul  ambition, 

1.  184.  [K.H.V1.38. 


Act  III.]  KL\G  HENRY  VI.  \_Scene /. 

And  charity  chas'd  hence  by  rancor's  hand  ; 

Foul  subornation  is  predominant, 

And  equity  exii'd  your  highness'  land. 

I  know  their  coniplot  is  to  have  my  life; 

And,  if  my  death  might  make  this  island  happy. 

And  prove  the  period  of  their  tyranny, 

I  would  expend  it  with  all  willingness  : 

But  mine  is  made  the  prologue  to  their  play ; 

For  thousands  more,  that  yet  suspect  no  peril, 

Will  not  conclude  their  plotted  tragedy. 

Beaufort's  red  sparkling  eyes  blab  his  heart's  malice, 

And  Suffolk's  cloudy  brow  his  stormy  hate; 

Sharp  Buckingham  unburdens  with  his  tongue 

The  envious  load   that  lies  upon  his  heart ; 

And  dogged  York,  that  reaches  at  the  moon, 

Whose  overweening  arm  I  have  pluck'd  back, 

By  false  accuse  doth  level  at  my  life  :  — 

And  you,  my  sovereign  lady,  with  the  rest, 

Causeless  have  laid  disgraces  on  my  head. 

And  with  your  best  endeavor  have  stirr'd  up 

Mv  liefest  liege  to  be  mine  tnemy:  — 

Ay,  all  of  you  have  laid  your  heads  together  — 

Myself  had  notice  of  your  conventicles  — 

And  all  to  make  away  my  guiltless  life. 

I  shall  not  want  false  witness  to  condemn  me, 

Nor  store  of  treasons  to  augment  my  guilt  ; 

The  ancient  proverb  will  be  well  effected, — 

A  staff  is  quickly  found  to  beat  a  dog. 

Car.  My  liege,  his  railing  is  intolerable  ; 
If  tho.se  that  care  to  keep  your  roval  person 
From  treason's  secret  knife  and  traitors'  rage 
Be  thus  upbraided,  chid,  and  rated  at. 
And  the  offender  granted  scope  of  s])eech, 
'Twill  make  them  cool  in  zeal  unto  your  grace. 

Suf.  Hath  he  not  twit  our  sovereign  lady  here 
With  ignominious  words,  though  clerkly  couch'd, 
As  if  she  had  suborned  some  to  swear 
False  allegations  to  o'erthrow  his  state  ? 

Q.  Mar.  But  I  can  give  the  loser  leave  to  chide. 

Glo.  Far  truer  spoke  than  meant  :  1  lose,  indeed;  — 
Beshrew  the  winners,  for  they  play'd  me  false! 
And  well  such  losers  may  have  leave  to  speak. 

K.H.\I.39.]  I.  185. 


Act  II I. '\  THE  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scent  J. 

Buck.  He'll   wrest    the   sense,  and    hold    us    here   all 
day : — 
Lord  cardinal,  he  is  your  prisoner. 

Car.  Sirs,  take  away  the  duke,  and  guard  him  sure. 

Glo.  Ah,  thus  King  Henry  throws  away  his  crutch, 
Before  his  legs  be  firm  to  bear  his  body  ! 
Thus  is  the  shepherd  beaten  from  thy  side, 
And  wolves  are  gnarling  who  shall  gnaw  thee  first. 
Ah,  that  my  fear  were  false  !  ah,  that  it  were  ! 
P'or,  good  King  Henry,  thy  decay  I  fear. 

{^Exeunt  Attendatits  zuiih  Gloster  in  their  custody. 

K.  Hen.  My  lords,  what  to  your  wisdom  seemeth  best 
Do  or  undo,  as  if  yourself  were  here. 

(2-  Mar.  What,  will  your  highness  leave  the  parliament  ? 

K.  Hen.   Ay,  Margaret  ;  my  heart  is  drown 'd  with  grief. 
Whose  flood  begins  to  flow  within  mine  eyes ; 
My  body  round  engirt  with  misery, — 
For  what's  more  miserable  than  discontent.''  — 
Ah,  uncle  Humphiey,  in  thy  face  1  see 
The  map  of  honor,  truth,  and  loyalty  ! 
And  yet,  good  Humphrey,  is  the  hour  to  come 
That  e'er  I  prov'd  thee  false,  or  fear'd  thy  faith. 
What  louring  star  now  envies  thy  estate. 
That  these  great  lords,  and  Margaret  our  queen, 
Do  seek  subversion  of  thy  harmless  life.'' 
Thou  never  didst  them  wrong,  nor  no  man  wrong ; 
And  as  the  butcher  takes  away  the  calf. 
And  binds  the  wretch,  and  beats  it  when  it  strays 
Bearing  it  to  the  bloody  slaughter-house  ; 
Even  so,  remorseless,  have  they  borne  him  hence 
And  as  the  dam  runs  lowing  up  and  down. 
Looking  the  way  her  harmless  young  one  went, 
And  can  do  naught  but  wail  her  darling's  loss  ; 
Even  so  myself  bewails  good  Gloster's  case 
With  sad  unhelpful  tears;  and  with  dinim'd  eyes 
Look  after  him,  and  cannot  do  him  good, — 
So  mighty  are  his  vowed  enemies. 
His  fortunes  I  will  weep ;  and  'twixt  each  groan. 
Say,    "  Who's  a  traitor,  Gloster  he  is  none."  \Exif. 

Q.  Mar.  Fair  lords,  cold   snow  melts  with   the   sun's 
hot  beams. 
Henry  my  lord  is  cold  in  great  affairs. 
Too  full  of  foolish  pity  :  and  Gloster's  show 

I.  l86.  [k.H.V!  40. 


Aci///.]  KING  HE\'RY  Vi.  \SctKe  L 

Beguiles  him,  as  the  mournful  crocodile 
With  sorrow  snares  relenting  passengers; 
Or  as  the  snake,  roll'd  in  a  flowering  bank, 
With  shining  checker'd  slough,  doth  stinga  child. 
That  for  the  beauty  thinks  it  excellent. 
Believe  me,  lords,  were  none  more  wise  than  I, — 
And  yet  herein  I  judge  mine  own  wit  good,— 
This  Gloster  should  be  quickly  rid  the  world. 
To  rid  us  from  the  fear  we  have  of  him. 

Car.  That  he  should  die  is  worthy  policy; 
But  yet  we  want  a  color  for  his  death  : 
'Tis  meet  he  be  condemn'd  by  course  of  law. 

Suf.  But,  in  my  mind,  that  were  no  policy : 
The  king  will  labor  still  to  save  his  life  ; 
The  commons  haply  rise  to  save  his  life  ; 
And  yet  we  have  but  trivial  argument, 
More  than  mistrust,  that  shows  him  worthy  death. 

York.  So  that,  by  this,  you  would  not  have  him  die. 

Suf.  Ah,  York,  no  man  alive  so  fain  as  I  ! 

York.    \aside\  'Tis  York  that  hath  more  reason  for  his 
death. — 
But,  my  lord  cardinal,  and  you,  my  Lord  of  Suffolk, — 
Say  as  you  think,  and  speak  it  from  your  souls. — 
Were't  not  all  one,  an  empty  eagle  were  set 
To  guard  the  chicken  from  a  hungry  kite, 
As  place  Duke  Humphrey  for  the  king's  protector  ? 

Q.  Mar.  So  the  poor  chicken  should  be  sure  of  death. 

Suf.  Madam,  'tis  true ;  and  were't  not  madness,  then, 
To  make  the  fox  surveyor  of  the  fold  } 
Who  being  accus'd  a  crafty  murderer, 
His  guilt  should  be  but  idly  posted  over. 
Because  his  purpose  is  not  executed. 
No  ;  let  him  die,  in  that  he  is  a  fox, 
By  nature  prov'd  an  enemy  to  the  flock, 
Before  his  chaps  be  stain'd  with  crimson  blood, 
As  Humphrey,  prov'd  by  reasons,  to  my  liege. 
And  do  not  stand  on  quillets  how  to  slav  him ; 
Be  it  by  gins,  by  snares,  by  subtlety, 
Sleeping  or  waking,  'tis  no  matter  how, 
So  he  be  dead  ;  for  that  is  good  deceit 
Which  mates  hinj  first  that  first  intends  deceit. 

<2.  Mar.  Thrice-noble  Suffolk,  'tis  resolutely  spoke. 

Suf.  Not  resolute,  except  so  much  were  done; 
K.H.V1.41.]  I.  187, 


A'i  Ili:\  Til r<:  SECOND  PART  OP'  [Scene  I. 

For  things  are  often  spoke,  and  seldom  meant : 
But,  that  my  heart  accordelh  with  my  tongue, — 
Seeing  the  deed  is  meritorious, 
And  to  preserve  m)  sovereign  from  his  foe, — 
Say  but  the  word,  and  I  will  be  his  priest. 

Car.  But  I  would  have  him  dead,  my  Lord  of  Suffolk, 
Ere  you  can  take  due  orders  for  a  priest : 
Say  you  consent,  and  censure  well  the  deed. 
And  I'll  provide  his  executioner, — 
I  tender  so  the  safety  of  my  liege. 

Stif.  Here  is  my  hand,  the  deed  is  worthy  doing. 

Q.  Mar.   And  so  say  I. 

York.  And  I :  and  now  we  three  have  spoken  it. 
It  skills  not  greatly  who  impugns  our  doom. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Great  lords,  from  Ireland  am  I  come  amain. 
To  signify  that  rebels  there  are  up. 
And  put  the  Englishmen  unto  the  sword  : 
Send  succors,  lords,  and  stop  the  rage  betime. 
Before  the  wound  do  grow  uncurable ; 
For,  being  green,  there  is  great  hope  of  help. 

Car.   A  breach  tha*  craves  a  quick-expedient  stop  ! 
What  counsel  give  you  in  this  weighty  cause  } 

York.  That  Somerset  be  sent  as  regent  thither: 
'Tis  meet  that  lucky  ruler  be  employ 'd  ; 
Witness  the  fortune  he  hath  had  in  France. 

So!n.  If  York,  with  all  his  far-fet  policy. 
Had  been  the  regent  there  instead  of  me. 
He  never  would  have  stay'd  in  France  so  long, 

York.  No,  not  to  lose  it  all,  as  thou  hast  done: 
I  rather  would  have  lost  my  life  betimes 
Than  bring  a  burden  of  dishonor  home 
By  staying  there  so  long,  till  all  were  lost. 
Show  me  one  scar  character'd  on  thy  skin : 
Men's  flesh  preserv'd  so  whole  do  seldom  win. 

Q.  Mar.  Nay,  then,  this  spark  will  prove  a  raging  fire. 
If  wind  and  fuel  be  brought  to  feed  it  with  :  — 
No  more,  good  York  ;  —  sweet  Somerset,  be  still :  — 
Thy  fortune,  York,  hadst  thou  been  regent  there. 
Might  happily  have  prov'd  far  worse  than  his. 

York.  What,  worse  than  naught  ?  nay,  then,  a  shame 
take  all ! 

I.  i88.  [K.H.vi.4a 


Act///.]  K/N'G  HENRY  V/.  \Scene /. 

SoiH.  And,  in  the  number,  thee  that  wishest  shame ! 

Car.  My  Lord  of  York,  try  what  your  fortune  is. 
Th'  uncivil  kerns  of  Ireland  are  in  arms, 
And  temper  clay  with  blood  of  Englishmen  : 
To  Ireland  will  you  lead  a  band  of  men, 
Collected  choicely,  from  each  county  some. 
And  try  your  hap  against  the  Irishmen? 

York.  I  will,  my  lord,  so  please  his  majesty. 

Suf.  Why,  our  authority  is  his  consent ; 
And  what  we  do  establish  he  confirms  : 
Then,  noble  York,  take  thou  this  task  in  hand. 

York.   I  am  content  :  provide  me  soldiers,  lords, 
While  I  take  order  for  mine  own  affairs. 

Suf.   A  charge.  Lord  York,  that  I  will  see  perform'd. 
But  now  return  we  to  the  false  Uuke  Humphrey. 

Car.  No  more  of  him  :  for  I  will  deal  with  him, 
That  henceforth  he  shall  imuble  us  no  more. 
And  so  break  off ;  the  day  is  almost  spent : 
Lord  Suffolk,  you  and  I  must  talk  of  that  event, 

York.  My  Lord  of  Suffolk,  within  fourteen  days 
At  Bristol  I  expect  my  soldiers  ; 
For  there  I'll  ship  them  all  for  Ireland. 

Suf.  I'll  see  it  truly  done,  my  Lord  of  York. 

[  Exeunt  all  except  York. 

York.  Now,  York,  or  never,  steel  thy  fearful  thoughts, 
And  change  misdoubt  to  resolution  : 
Be  that  thou  hop'st  to  be ;  or  what  thou  art 
Resign  to  death,— it  is  not  worth  th'  enjoying: 
Let  pale-fac'd  fear  keep  with  the  mean-born  man, 
And  find  no  harbor  in  a  royal  heart. 
Faster    than    spring-time    showers   comes    thought    on 

thought ; 
And  not  a  thought  but  thinks  on  dignity. 
My  brain,  more  busy  than  the  laboring  spider. 
Weaves  tedious  snares  to  trap  mine  enemies. 
Well,  nobles,  well,  'tis  politicly  done. 
To  send  me  packing  with  an  host  of  men  : 
I  fear  me  you  but  warm  the  starved  snake, 
Who,  cherish'd  in  your  breasts,  will  sting  your  hearts. 
'Twas  men  I  lack'd,  and  you  will  give  them  me  : 
I  take  it  kindly  ;  yet  be  well  assur'd 
You  put  sharp  weapons  in  a  madman's  hands. 
Whiles  I  in  Ireland  nourish  a  mighty  band, 

K.H.V1.43.J  1. 189. 


Act  in.]  THE  SECOND  PA  R  T  OF  \_Scene  II 

I  will  Stir  up  in  England  some  black  storm, 

Shall  i)lovv  ten  th(jusand  souls  to  heaven  or  hell 

And  this  fell  tempest  shall  not  cease  to  rage 

Until  the  golden  circuit  on  my  head, 

Like  to  the  glorious  sun's  transparent  beams, 

Do  calm  the  fury  of  this  mad-bred  flaw. 

And  for  a  minister  of  my  intent 

I  have  seduc'd  a  headstrong  Kentishman, 

John  Cade  of  Ashford, 

To  make  connnution,  as  full  well  he  can, 

Under  the  title  of  John  Mortimer. 

In  Ireland  have  I  seen  this  stubborn  Cade 

Oppose  himself  against  a  troop  of  kerns, 

And  fought  so  long,  till  that  his  thighs  with  darts 

Were  almost  like  a  sharp-quill'd  porpentine ; 

And,  in  the  end  being  rescu'd,  I  have  seen 

Him  caper  upright  like  a  wild  Morisco, 

Shaking  the  bloody  darts  as  he  his  bells. 

Full  often,  like  a  shag-hair'd  crafty  kern. 

Hath  he  conversed  with  the  enemy, 

And,  undiscover'd,  come  to  me  again, 

And  given  me  notice  of  their  villainies. 

This  devil  here  shall  be  my  substitute ; 

For  that  John  Mortimer,  which  now  is  dead, 

In  face,  in  gait,  in  speech,  he  doth  resemble : 

By  this  I  shall  perceive  the  commons'  mind, 

How  they  affect  the  house  and  claim  of  York. 

Say  he  be  taken,  rack'd,  and  tortured, 

I  know  no  pain  they  can  inflict  upon  him 

Will  make  him  say  1  niov'd  him  to  those  arms. 

Say  that  he  thrive, —  as  'tis  great  like  he  will, — 

Why,  then  from  Ireland  come  I  with  my  strength, 

And  reap'd  the  harvest  which  that  rascal  sow'd  ; 

For,  Humphrey  being  dead,  as  he  shall  be, 

And  Henry  put  apart,  the  next  for  me.  [Exit. 

Scene  II.  Bury  Si.  Edniund's.     A  room  of  state. 
Enter  certain  Murderers,  hastily. 

First  Mnr.  Run  to  my  Lord  Suffolk  ;  let  him  know 
We  have  dispatch'd  the  tluke,  as  he  commanded. 

Sec.  Mur.  O  that  it  were  to  do  !  —  What  have  we  done  ? 
Didst  ever  hear  a  man  so  penitent? 

1.  I^o.  Ik. ri. VI. 44 


Ad///.}  KING  HEXRY  VI.  {Scene  11. 

First  Mur.  Here  comes  my  lord. 
Enter  SUFFOLK. 

Suf.  Now,  sirs,  have  you  dispatch'd  this  thing? 

First  Mur.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  he's  dead. 

Suf.  Why,  that's  well  said.    Go,  get  you  to  my  house ; 
I  will  reward  you  for  this  venturous  deed. 
The  king  and  all  the  peers  are  here  at  hand  :  — 
Have  you  laid  fair  the  bed  ?  are  all  things  well, 
According  as  I  gave  directions  ? 

First  Mi(r.  'Tis,  my  good  lord. 

Suf.  Away  !  be  gone.  \Exewii  Murderers. 

Trumpets     sounded.       Enter     King     HENRY,      Queen 

Margaret,  Cardmal  Beaufort,  Somerset, 

Lords,  and  others. 

K.  Hen.  Go,  call  our  uncle  to  our  presence  straight ; 
.Say  we  intend  to  try  his  grace  to-day. 
If  he  be  guilty,  as  'tis  published. 

Suf.  I'll  call  him  presently,  my  noble  lord.  \Extt. 

K.  Hen.  Lords,  take  your  places  ;  and,  I  pray  you  all, 
Proceed  no  straiter  'gainst  our  uncle  Gloster 
Than  from  true  evidence  of  good  esteem 
He  be  approv'd  in  practice  culpable. 

Q.  Mar.  God  forbid  any  malice  should  prevail, 
That  faultless  may  condemn  a  nobleman  ! 
Pray  God  he  may  acquit  him  of  suspicion. 

K.  Hen.  I   thank  thee,  Meg;  these  words  content  me 
much. 

Re-enter  SUFFOLK. 

How  now!  why  look'st  thou  pale?  why  tremblest  thou.' 
Where  is  our  uncle.''  what's  the  matter,  Suffolk? 
Suf.  Dead  in  his  bed,  my  lord;  Gloster  is  dead. 
Q,  Mar.  Marry,  God  forfend  I 

Car.  God's  secret  judgment :  —  I  did  dream  to-night 
The  duke  was  dumb,  and  could  not  speak  a  word. 

[  The  King  sivoons. 
Q.Mar.  How  fares  my  lord  ? — Help,  lords  I    the  king 

is  dead. 
Sojn.   Rear  up  his  body  ;  wring  him  by  the  nose. 
Q.Mar    Run.  go,  help,   help!  —  O  Henry,  ope  thine 
eyes  !  mk  .t;,ri  // 

K.H.V1.45.]  1. 191. 


Act  III. '\  rilE  SLCOXD  FART  OF  [Seem  I/. 

Suf.  He  doth  revive  again  :  —  madam,  be  patient. 

K.  Hen.  O  heavenly  God  I 

Q.  Mar.  How  fares  my  gracious  lord  } 

Suf.  Comfort,  my  sovereign  !  gracious  Henry,  comfort ! 

K.  Hen.  What,    doth    my    Lord    of    Suffolk    comfort 
me  } 
Came  he  right  now  to  sing  a  raven's  note, 
Whose  dismal  tune  bereft  my  vital  powers  ; 
And  thinks  he  that  the  chirping  of  a  wren, 
By  crying  comfort  from  a  hollow  breast, 
Can  chase  away  the  tirst-conceived  sound? 
Hide  not  thy  poison  with  such  sugar'd  words : 
Lay  not  thy  hands  on  me  ;  forbear,  I  say  ; 
Their  touch  affrights  me  as  a  serpent's  sting. 
Thou  baleful  messenger,  out  of  my  sight ! 
Upon  thy  eyeballs  murderous  tyranny 
Sits  in  grim  majesty,  to  fright  the  world. 
Look  not  upon  me,  for  thine  eyes  are  wounding:  — 
Yet  do  not  go  away  :  —  come,  basilisk. 
And  kill  the  innocent  gazer  with  thy  sight ; 
For  in  the  shade  of  death  I  shall  find  joy, — 
In  life  but  double  death,  now  Gloster's  dead. 

Q.  Mil}-.  W^hy  do  you  rate  my  Lord  of  Suffolk  thus  ? 
Although  the  duke  was  enemy  to  him, 
Yet  he,  most  Christian-like,  laments  his  death  : 
And  for  myself, —  foe  as  he  was  to  me, — 
Might  liquid  tears,  or  heart-offending  groans, 
Or  blood-consuming  sighs  recall  his  life, 
I  would  be  blind  with  weeping,  sick  with  groans, 
Look  pale  as  primrose  with  blood-drinking  sighs. 
And  all  to  have  the  noble  duke  alive. 
What  know  I  how  the  world  may  deem  of  me  ? 
For  it  is  known  we  were  but  hollow  friends. 
It  may  be  judg'd  I  made  the  duke  away  ; 
So  shall  my  name  with  slander's  tongue  be  wounded 
And  princes'  courts  be  filled  with  my  reproach. 
This  get  I  by  his  death  :  ay  me,  unhappy  ! 
To  be  a  Queen,  and  crown'd  with  infamy  I 

K.  Hen.  Ah,  woe  is  me  for  Gloster,  wretched  man  i 

Q.  Mar.  Be  woe  forme,  more  wretched  than  he  is. 
What,  dost  thou  turn  away,  and  hide  thy  face  ? 
I  am  no  loathsome  leper, —  look  on  me. 
What,  art  thou,  like  the  adder,  waxen  deaf  ? 

I.  192.  [k.h.vi.46. 


Act  1 1 1. '\  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  II. 

Be  poisonous  too,  and  kill  thy  forlorn  queen, 

Is  all  thy  comfort  shut  in  Gloster's  tomb  ? 

Why,  then,  Dame  Margaret  was  ne'er  thy  joy  : 

Erect  his  statua,  and  worship  it, 

And  make  my  image  but  an  alehouse  sign. 

Was  I  for  this  nigh  wreck'd  upon  the  sea. 

And  twice  by  awkward  winds  from  England's  bank 

Drove  back  again  unto  my  native  clime  ? 

What  boded  this  but  well-forewarning  winds 

Did  seem  to  say, —  Seek  not  a  scorpion's  nest. 

Nor  set  no  footing  on  this  unkind  shore  ? 

What  did  I  then  but  curs'd  the  gentle  gusts, 

And  he  that  loos'd  them  forth  their  brazen  caves  ; 

And  bid  them  blow  toward  England's  blessed  shore. 

Or  turn  our  stern  upon  a  dreadful  rock  ? 

Yet  yEolus  would  not  be  a  murderer, 

But  left  that  hateful  office  unto  thee  : 

The  pretty-vaulting  sea  refus'd  to  drown  me ; 

Knowing  that  thou  wouldst  have  me  drown'd  on  shore 

With  tears  as  salt  as  sea,  through  thy  unkindness  : 

The  splitting  rocks  cower'd  in  the  sinking  sands, 

And  would  not  dash  me  with  their  ragged  sides  ;, 

Because  thy  flinty  heart,  more  hard  than  th^, 

Might  in  thy  palace  perish  Margaret. 

As  far  as  I  could  ken  the  chalky  cliffs, 

When  from  thy  shore  the  tempest  beat  us  back, 

I  stood  upon  the  hatches  in  the  storm  ; 

And  when  the  dusky  sky  began  to  rob 

My  earnest-gaping  sight  of  thy  land's  view, 

I  took  a  costly  jewel  from  my  neck, — 

A  heart  it  was,  bound  in  with  diamonds, — 

And  threw  it  towards  thy  land  :  —  the  sea  receiv'd  it ; 

And  so  I  wish'd  thy  body  might  my  heart  : 

And  even  with  this  I  lost  fair  England's  view. 

And  bid  mine  eyes  be  packing  with  my  heart. 

And  call'd  them  blind  and  dusky  spectacles. 

For  losing  ken  of  Albion's  wished  coast. 

How  often  have  I  tempted  Suffolk's  tongue  — 

The  agent  of  thy  foul  inconstancv  — 

To  sit  and  witch  me,  as  Ascanius  did 

When  he  to  madding  Dido  would  unfold 

His  father's  acts  commenc'd  in  burning  Troy  ! 

Am  I  not  witch'd  like  her  ?  or  thou  not  false  like  him  ? 

K.H.V1.47.]  1. 193. 


.4 ci  ///.]  7///i  SBCOX/)  PA R T  OJ<-  \_Scene  II. 

Ay  me,  I  can  no  more  !  die,  Margaret ! 

For  Henry  weeps  that  thou  dost  live  so  long. 

Noise  within.    Enter  Warwick  and  Salisbury, 
The  Qovrvmows  press  to  the  door. 

War.  It  is  reported,  mighty  sovereign, 
That  good  Duke  Humphrey  traitorously  is  inurder'd 
By  Suffolk  and  the  Cardinal  Beaufort's  means. 
The  commons,  like  an  angry  hive  of  bees 
That  want  their  leader,  scatter  up  and  down, 
And  care  not  who  they  sting  in  his  revenge. 
Myself  have  calm'd  their  spleenful  mutiny. 
Until  they  hear  the  order  of  his  death. 

K.  Hen.  That  he  is  dead,  good  Warwick,  'tis  too  true ; 
But  how  he  died  God  knows,  not  Henry  : 
Enter  his  chamber,  view  his  breathless  corpse. 
And  comment  then  upon  his  sudden  death. 

War.  That  shall  I  do,  my  liege. —  Stay,  Salisbury, 
With  the  rude  multitude  till  I  return. 

[  Warwick  goes  into  an  inner  chamber. — Salis- 
bury retires  to  the  Commons  at  the  door. 

K.  Hen.  O    Thou    that   judgest    all   things,    stay   my 
thoughts, — 
My  thoughts,  that  labor  to  persuade  my  soul 
Some  violent  hands  were  laid  on  Humphrey's  life  1 
If  my  suspect  be  false,  forgive  me,  God  ; 
For  judgment  only  doth  belong  to  thee. 
Fain  would  I  go  to  chafe  his  paly  lips 
With  twenty  thousand  kisses,  and  to  rain 
Upon  his  face  an  ocean  of  salt  tears, 
To  tell  my  love  unto  his  dumb  deaf  trunk, 
And  with  my  fingers  feel  his  hand  unfeeling : 
But  all  in  vain  are  these  mean  obseciuies ; 
And  to  survey  his  dead  and  earthy  image, 
What  were  it  but  to  make  my  sorrow  greater.? 

\^The  folding  doors  of  an  inner  chamber  are  thrown 
open,  and  Gloster  is  discovered  dead  in  his 
bed  ;    Warwick  and  others  standing  by  it. 

War.  Come  hither,  gracious  sovereign,  view  this  body. 

K.  Hen.  That  is  to  see  how  deep  my  grave  is  made ; 
For  with  his  soul  fled  all  my  worldly  solace, 
And  seeing  him,  1  see  my  life  in  death, 

I.  194.  [K.H.V1.48. 


Act  rn.l  KING  HENRY  Vr.  [Scene  I/. 

War.  As  surely  as  my  soul  intends  to  live 
With  that  dread  King  that  took  our  state  upon  him 
To  free  us  from  his  Father's  wrathful  curse, 
I  do  believe  that  violent  hands  were  laid 
Upon  the  life  of  this  thrice-famed  duke. 

Sief.  A  dreadful  oath,  sworn  with  a  solemn  tongue! 
What  instance  gives  Lord  Warwick  for  his  vow? 

War.  See  how  the  blood  is  stltled  in  his  face  : 
Oft  have  I  seen  a  timely-parted  ghost, 
Of  ashy  semblance,  meager,  pale,  and  bloodless. 
Being  all  descended  to  the  laboring  heart ; 
Who,  in  the  conflict  that  it  holds  with  death. 
Attracts  the  same  for  aidance  'gainst  the  enemy  ; 
Which  with  the  heart  there  cools,  and  ne'er  returneth 
To  blush  and  beautify  the  cheek  again. 
But  see,  his  face  is  black  and  full  of  blood  ; 
His  eyeballs  further  out  than  when  he  liv'd, 
Staring  full  ghastly  like  a  strangled  man  ; 
His  hair  uprear'd,  his  nostrils  stretch'd  with  struggling'; 
His  hands  abroad  display 'd,  as  one  that  grasp'd 
And  tugg'd  for  life,  and  was  by  strength  subdu'd  : 
Look,  on  the  sheets  his  hair,  you  see,  is  sticking; 
His  well-proportion'd  beard  made  rough  and  rugged. 
Like  to  the  summer's  corn  by  tempest  lodg'd. 
It  cannot  be  but  he  was  murder'd  here  ; 
The  least  of  all  these  signs  were  probable. 

Suf.  Why,  Warwick,  who  should  do  the  duke  to  death  .' 
Myself  and  Beaufort  had  him  in  protection  ; 
And  we,  I  hope,  sir,  are  no  murderers. 

War.  But  both  of  you  were  vow'd  Duke  Humphrey's 
foes  ; 
And  you,  forsooth,  had  the  good  duke  to  keep  : 
'Tis  like  you  would  not  feast  him  like  a  friend  ; 
And  'tis  well  seen  he  found  an  enemy. 

Q.  Mar.  Then  you,  belike,  susjiect  these  noblemen 
As  guilty  of  Duke  Humphrey's  timeless  death. 

IVar.  Who  tinds  the  heifer  dead  and  bleeding  fresh. 
And  sees  fast  by  a  butcher  with  an  ax, 
But  will  suspect  'twas  he  that  made  the  slaughter  ? 
Who  finds  the  partridge  in  the  puttock's  nest. 
But  may  imagine  how  the  bird  was  dead, 
Although  the  kite  soar  with  unbloodied  beak? 
Even  so  suspicious  is  this  tragedy. 

K.H.V1.49.]  !•  195- 


A  ct  III.  ]  T/fK  SECOND  PA  RT  OF  [Scene  II. 

Q.  Afar.  Are  you  the  butcher,  Suffolk  ?  —  where's  your 
knife  ? 
Is  Beaufort  term'd  a  kite  ?  —  where  are  his  talons? 

Stif.  I  wear  no  knife  to  slaughter  sleeping  men ; 
But  here's  a  vengeful  sword,  rusted  with  ease. 
That  shall  be  scourged  in  his  rancorous  heart 
That  slanders  me  with  murder's  crimson  badge  :  — 
Say,  if  thou  dar'st,  proud  Lord  of  Warwickshire, 
That  I  am  faulty  in  Duke  Humphrey's  death. 

\Exeunt  Cardinal,  Somerset,  and  others. 

War.  What  dares  not  Warwick,  if  false  Suffolk  dare 
him  ? 

Q.  Mar.  He  dares  not  calm  his  contumelious  spirit, 
Nor  cease  to  be  an  arrogant  controller. 
Though  Suffolk  dare  him  twenty  thousand  times. 

IVar.  Madam,  be  still, —  with  reverence  may  1  say; 
For  every  word  you  speak  in  his  behalf 
Is  slander  to  your  royal  dignity. 

Suf.  Blunt-witted  lord,  ignoble  in  demeanor  ! 
If  ever  lady  wrong'd  her  lord  so  much, 
Thy  mother  took  into  her  blameful  bed 
Some  stern  untutor'd  churl,  and  noble  stock 
Was  graft  with  crab-tree  slip  ;  whose  fruit  thou  art, 
And  never  of  the  Nevils'  noble  race. 

War.  But  that  the  guilt  of  murder  bucklers  thee, 
And  I  should  rob  the  deathsman  of  his  fee, 
Quitting  thee  thereby  of  ten  thousand  shames. 
And  that  my  sovereign's  presence  makes  me  mild, 
I  would,  false  murderous  coward,  on  thy  knee 
Make  thee  beg  pardon  for  thy  passed  speech. 
And  say  it  was  thy  mother  that  thou  meant'st, — 
That  thou  thyself  wast  born  in  bastardy ; 
And,  after  all  this  fearful  homage  done. 
Give  thee  thy  hire,  and  send  thy  soul  to  hell, 
Pernicious  blood-sucker  of  sleeping  men  ! 

.Suf.  Thou  shalt  be  waking  while  I  shed  thy  blood, 
If  from  this  presence  thou  dar'st  go  with  me. 

War.  Away  even  now,  or  I  will  drag  thee  hence : 
Unworthy,  though  thou  art,  I'll  cope  with  thee. 
And  do  some  service  to  Duke  Humphrey's  ghost. 

{E.xeunt  .Suffolk  and  Warwick. 

K.  Hen.  What  stronger  breastplate  than  a  heart  un- 
tainted ! 

I.  ig6.  [K.H.VI.50. 


Act  ///.]  A'/.\'c;  H£NR\'  VI.  \Sct,u-  II. 

Thrice  is  he  arm'd  that  hath  his  quarrel  just; 
And  he  but  naked,  thougli  lock'd-up  in  steel, 
Whose  conscience  with  injustice  is  corrupted. 

yA  noise  within. 
Q.  Mar.  What  noise  is  this? 

Re-enter  SUFFOLK  and  WARWICK,  loith  their  weapons 
dratcn. 

K.  Hen.  Why,  how  now,  lords  I  your  wrathful  weapons 
drawn. 
Here  in  our  presence  !  dare  you  be  so  bold  ?  — 
Why,  what  tumultuous  clamor  have  we  here  ? 

Suf.  The  traitorous  Warwick,  with  the  men  of  Bury, 
Set  all  upon  me,  mighty  sovereign. 

Sal.  [to  the  Convnons  at  the  door]  Sirs,  stand  apart  ; 
the  king  shall  know  your  mind. — 

[//d'  co/JU's  forward. 
Dread  lord,  the  commons  send  you  word  by  me, 
Unless  false  Suffolk  straight  be  done  to  death 
Or  banished  fair  England's  territories. 
They  will  by  violence  tear  him  from  your  palace, 
And  torture  him  with  grievous  lingering  death. 
They  say,  by  him  the  good  Duke  Humphrey  died; 
They  say,  in  him  they  fear  your  highness'  death  ; 
And  mere  instinct  of  love  and  loyalty  — 
Free  from  a  stubborn  opposite  intent, 
As  being  thought  to  contradict  your  liking  — 
Makes  them  thus  forward  in  his  banishment. 
They  say,  in  care  of  your  most  royal  person. 
That  if  your  highness  should  intend  to  sleep. 
And  charge  that  no  man  should  disturb  your  rest. 
In  pain  of  your  dislike,  or  pain  of  death  ; 
Yet,  notwithstanding  such  a  strait  edict. 
Were  there  a  serpent  seen,  with  forked  tongue. 
That  slily  glided  towards  your  majesty, 
It  were  but  necessary  you  were  wak'd  ; 
Lest,  being  suffer'd  in  that  harmful  slumber. 
The  mortal  worm  might  make  the  sleej)  eternal : 
And  therefore  do  they  crv,  though  you  forbid, 
That  they  will  guard  you,  wher  you  will  or  no, 
From  such  fell  serpents  as  false  Suffolk  is ; 
With  whose  envenomed  and  fatal  sting, 
K.H.V1.51.]  I.  197. 


Ac/  ///.]  T/rK  SF.CONiy  J'ART  OF  [Stem  11. 

Your  loving  uncle,  twenty  times  his  worth, 
They  say,  is  shamefully  bereft  of  life. 

Commons  \withiti\  An  answer  from  the  king,  my  Lord 
of  Salisbury  ! 

Suf.  'Tis  like  the  commons,  rude  unpolish'd  hinds. 
Could  send  such  message  to  their  sovereign  ; 
But  you,  my  lord,  were  glad  to  be  employ'd. 
To  show  how  quaint  an  orator  you  are : 
But  all  the  honor  Salisbury  hath  won 
Is,  that  he  was  the  lord  ambassador 
Sent  from  a  sort  of  tinkers  to  the  king. 

Commons  [wit/u'ii']    An   answer  from  the    king,  or  we 
will  all  break  in  ! 

A'.  Hi'ii.  Go,  Salisbury,  and  tell  them  all  from  me, 
I  thank  them  for  their  tender  loving  care  ; 
And  had  I  not  been  cited  so  by  them. 
Yet  did  I  purpose  as  they  do  entreat ; 
For,  sure,  my  thoughts  do  hourly  prophesy 
Mischance  unto  my  state  by  Suffolk's  means  : 
And  therefore, —  by  his  Majesty  I  swear. 
Whose  far  unworthy  deputy  I  am, — 
He  shall  not  breathe  infection  in  this  air 
But  three  days  longer,  on  the  pain  of  death. 

[Exit  Sah'sbury. 

Q.  Mar.  O  Henry,  let  me  plead  for  gentle  Suffolk ! 

A".  Heti.  Ungentle  queen,  to  call  him  gentle  Suffolk  ! 
No  more,  I  say  :  if  thou  dost  plead  for  him. 
Thou  wilt  but  add  increase  unto  my  wrath. 
Had  I  but  said,  I  would  have  kept  my  word  ; 
But  when  I  swear,  it  is  irrevocable.— 
If  after  three  days'  space  thou  here  be'st  found 
On  any  ground  that  I  am  ruler  of. 
The  world  shall  not  be  ransom  for  thy  life.— 
Come,  Warwick,  come,  good  Warwick,  go  with  me ; 
1  have  great  matters  to  impart  to  thee. 

[Exeunt  all  except  Queen  Margaret  and  Suffolk, 

Q.  Mar.  Mischance  and  sorrow  go  along  wuth  you ! 
Heart's  discontent  and  sour  affliction 
Be  playfellows  to  keep  you  company  !  * 
There's  two  of  you  ;  the  de\il  make  a  third-! 
And  threefold  vengeance  tend  upon  your  steps ! 

Suf.  Cease,  gentle  queen,  these  execrations. 
And  let  thy  Suffolk  take  his  heavy  leave. 

1.  iq8.  [K.H.vi.ja. 


Aci  ///.]  K/NG  HENRY  I'l.  [Scene  II. 

Q.  Mar.  Fie,  coward  woman,  and  soft-hearted  wretch  I 
Hast  thou  not  spirit  to  curse  thine  enemies  ? 

Suf.  A  plague  upon  them  !  wherefore  should  I  curse 
them  ? 
Would  curses  kill,  as  doth  the  mandrake's  groan, 
I  would  invent  as  bitter-searching  terms, 
As  curst,  as  harsh  and  horrible  to  hear, 
Deliver'd  strongly  through  my  fixed  teeth. 
With  full  as  many  signs  of  deadly  hate. 
As  lean-fac'd  Envy  in  her  loathsome  cave: 
My  tongue  should  stumble  in  mine  earnest  words; 
Mine  eyes  should  sparkle  like  the  beaten  flint  ; 
Mine  hair  be  tix'd  on  end,  as  one  distract  ; 
Ay,  every  joint  should  seem  to  curse  and  ban  : 
And  even  now  my  burdened  heart  would  break. 
Should  I  not  curse  them.     Poison  be  their  drink ! 
Gall,  worse  than  gall,  the  daintiest  that  they  taste  ! 
Their  sweetest  shade  a  grove  of  cypress  trees  ! 
Their  chiefest  prospect  murdering  basilisks  ! 
Their  softest  touch  as  smart  as  lizards'  stings  ! 
Their  music  frightful  as  the  serpent's  hiss. 
And  boding  screech-owls  make  the  consort  full  .' 
All  the  foul  terrors  in  dark-seated  hell  — 

Q.  Mar.  Enough,  sweet  Suffolk  ;  thou  torment'st  thy- 
self; 
And  these  dread  curses  — like  the  sun  'gainst  glass, 
Or  like  an  overcharged  gun  —  recoil. 
And  turn  the  force  of  them  upon  thyself. 

Suf.  You  bade  me  ban,  and  will  you  bid  me  leave .'' 
Now,  by  the  ground  that  I  am  banish 'd  from. 
Well  could  I  curse  away  a  winter's  night, 
Though  standing  naked  on  a  mountain-top. 
Where  biting  cold  would  never  let  grass  grow, 
And  think  it  but  a  minute  spent  in  sport. 

Q.  Mar.  O, 
Let  me  entreat  thee,  cease  !     Give  me  thy  hand. 
That  I  may  dew  it  with  my  mournful  tears  ; 
Nor  let  the  rain  of  heaven  wet  this  place. 
To  wash  away  my  woful  monuments. 
O,  could  this  kiss  be  printed  in  thy  hand.    [Kisses /its  hand. 
That  thou  mightst  think  upon  these  bv  the  seal. 
Through  whom  a  thousand  sighs  are  breathed   for  thee  I 
So,  get  thee  gone,  that  I  may  know  my  grief  ; 

K.H.V1.53.]  I.  199. 


Aci  ill.]  TI/E  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scene  II. 

'  Tis  but  surmis'd  whiles  thou  art  standing  by, 

As  one  that  surfeits  thinking  on  a  want. 

1  will  repeal  thee,  or,  be  well  assur'd. 

Adventure  to  be  banished  myself  : 

And  banished  I  am  ;  if  but  from  thee. 

Go  ;  speak  not  to  me  ;  even  now  be  gone. — 

O,  go  not  yet !  —  Even  thus  two  friends  condemn'd 

Embrace,  and  kiss,  and  take  ten  thousand  leaves, 

Lother  a  hundred  times  to  part  than  die. 

Yet  now  farewell  ;  and  farewell  life  with  thee  ! 

Suf.  Thus  is  poor  Suffolk  ten  times  banished, — 
Once  by  the  King,  and  three  times  thrice  by  thee. 
'  Tis  not  the  land  I  care  for,  wert  thou  hence ; 
A  wilderness  is  populous  enough, 
So  Suffolk  had  thy  heavenly  company  : 
For  where  thou  art,  there  is  the  world  itself. 
With  every  several  pleasure  in  the  world  ; 
And  where  thou  art  not,  desolation. 
I  can  no  more  :  —  live  thou  to  joy  thy  life  ; 
Myself  to  joy  in  naught  but  that  thou  liv'st. 

Enter   Vaux. 

Q.  Mar.  Whither   goes  \'aux  so  fast.'^  what   news.  1 
prithee  ? 

Vaiix.  To  signify  unto  his  majesty 
That  Cardinal  Beaufort  is  at  point  of  death  ; 
For  suddenly  a  grievous  sickness  took  him. 
That  makes  him  gasp,  and  stare,  and  catch  the  air. 
Blaspheming  God,  and  cursing  men  on  earth. 
Sometime  he  talks  as  if  Duke  Humphrey's  ghost 
Were  by  his  side  ;  sometime  he  calls  the  king, 
And  whispers  to  his  pillow,  as  to  him. 
The  secrets  of  his  overcharged  soul : 
And  I  am  sent  to  tell  his  majesty 
That  even  now  he  cries  aloud  for  him. 

Q.  Mar.  Go  tell  this  heavy  message  to  the  king. 

{Exit  Vaux, 
Ay  me!  what  is  this  world  !  what  news  are  these  I 
But  wherefore  grieve  I  at  an  hour's  poor  loss, 
Omitting  Suffolk's  exile,  my  soul's  treasure  ? 
Why  only,  Suffolk,  mourn  I  not  for  thee. 
And  with  the  southern  clouds  contend  in  tears, — 
Their's  for  the  earth's  increase,  mine  for  my  sorrows? 

I.    2UO.  [K.H.VI.54. 


Act  lU.^  KING  HKNRV  VI.  IScem  I : L 

Now  g^et  thee  hence  :  the  king,  thou  know'st,  is  coming  ;  — 
[f  thou  be  found  by  me,  thou  art  but  dead. 

Si(f.  If  I  depart  from  thee,  I  cannot  Uve ; 
And  in  thy  sight  to  die,  what  were  it  else 
But  like  a  pleasant  slumber  in  thy  lap  ? 
Here  could  I  breathe  my  soul  into  the  air, 
As  mild  and  gentle  as  the  cradle-babe 
Dying  with  mother's  dug  between  its  lips  : 
Where,  from  thy  sight,  I  should  be  raging  mad, 
And  cry  out  for  thee  to  close  up  mine  eyes, 
To  have  thee  with  thy  lips  to  stop  my  mouth ; 
So  shouldst  thou  either  turn  my  flying  soul, 
Or  I  should  breathe  it  so  into  thy  body. 
And  then  it  liv'd  in  sweet  Elysium. 
To  die  by  thee  were  but  to  die  in  jest; 
From  thee  to  die  were  torture  more  than  death  ; 
O.  let  me  stay,  befall  what  may  befall  ! 

Mar.  Away  ! 
Though  parting  be  a  fretful  corrosive, 
It  is  applied  to  a  deathful  wound. 
To  France,  sweet  Suffolk  :  let  me  hear  from  thee. 
For  wheresoe'er  thou  art  in  this  world's  globe, 
I'll  have  an  Iris  that  shall  find  thee  out. 

Siif.  I  go. 

Q.  Mar.  And  take  my  heart  along  with  thee. 

Sitf.  A  jewel,  lock'd  into  the  woful'st  cask 
That  ever  did  contain  a  thing  of  worth. 
Even  as  a  splitted  bark,  so  sunder  we  : 
This  way  fall  I  to  death. 

Q.  Mar.  This  way  for  me.  \Exenttt  severally. 

Scene  III.  London.  Cardinal  Beaufort's  bedchamber. 

Enter    King    Henry,     Salisbury,    Warwick,    and 
others.      The  Cardinal  I'n  bed ;  Attendants  «'//// ///w. 

A'.  Hen.  How  fares   my  lord.''  speak.  Beaufort,  to  thy 

sovereign. 
Car.  If  thou  be'st  Death,  I'll  give  thee  England's  treas- 
ure. 
Enough  to  purchase  such  another  island. 
So  thou  wilt  let  me  live,  and  feel  no  pain. 

A'.  Hen.  Ah,  what  a  sign  it  is  of  evil  life, 
Where  death's  approach  is  seen  so  terrible ! 

K.H.VI.5S.]  •  I.  20I. 


Acf /K]  T:!r  :^ECOKD  PART  OF  {Seen*  I. 

War.  Beaufort,  it  is  thy  sovereign  speaks  to  thee. 

Car.  Bring  nie  unto  my  trial  when  you  will. 
Died  he  not  in  his  bed .''   where  should  he  die  ? 
Can  I  make  men  live,  wher  they  will  or  no  ? 
O,  torture  me  no  more  I  I  will  confess. — 
Alive  again  ?  then  show  me  where  he  is  : 
I'll  give  a  thousand  pound  to  look  upon  him. — 
He  hath  no  eyes,  the  dust  hath  blinded  chem. — 
Comb  down  his  hair;  look,  look!  it  stands  upright. 
Like  lime-twigs  set  to  catch  my  winged  soul !  — 
Give  me  some  drink  ;  and  bid  th'  apothecary 
Bring  the  strong  poison  that  I  bought  of  him. 

K.  Hot.  O  thou  eternal  Mover  of  the  heavens. 
Look  with  a  gentle  eye  upon  this  wretch  ! 
O,  beat  away  the  busy-meddling  fiend 
That  lays  strong  siege  unto  this  wretch's  soul, 
And  from  his  bosom  purge  this  black  despair  ! 

War.  See  how  the  pangs  of  death  do  make  him  grin  ! 

Sal.  Disturb  him  not ;  let  him  pass  peaceably. 

K.  Hen.  Peace  to  his  soul,  if  God's  good  pleasure  be  !  — 
Lord  cardinal,  if  thou  think'st  on  heaven's  bliss, 
Hold  up  thy  hand,  make  signal  of  thy  hope. — 
He  dies,  and  makes  no  sign  :  —  O  God,  forgive  him  ! 
War.  So  bad  a  death  argues  a  monstrous  life. 

K.  Hen.  Forbear  to  judge,  for  we  are  sinners  all. — 
Close  up  his  eyes,  and  draw  the  curtain  close ; 
And  let  us  all  to  meditation.  [Exeunt, 

ACT    IV. 

Scene  I.  Kent.      The  seashore  near  Dover. 

Firing  heard  at  sea.      Then  enter,  from  a  boat,  a  Cap- 
tain, a  Master,  a  Master's-Mate,  Walter  Whit- 
more,  and  others  ;   with  them   SUFFOLK,  dis- 
guised, and  other  Gentlemen,  prisoners. 

Cap.  The  gaudy,  blabbing,  and  remorseful  day 
Is  crept  into  the  bosom  of  the  sea ; 
And  now  loud-howling  wolves  arouse  the  jades 
That  drag  the  tragic  melancholy  night  ; 
Who,  with  their  drowsy,  slow,  and  Hagging  wings, 
Clip  dead  men's  graves,  and  from  their  misty  jaws 
Breathe  foul  contagious  darkness  in  the  air. 

L  ao2.         ■  [K.H.VI.56. 


A  ct  ly.]  KING  HENR  V  VI.  \_Scene  L 

Therefore  bring  forth  the  soldiers  of  our  prize; 
f  or,  whilst  our  pinnace  anchors  in  the  Downs, 
Here  shall  they  make  their  ransom  on  the  sand, 
Or  with  their  blood  stain  this  discolor'd  shore.— 
Master,  this  prisoner  freely  give  I  thee ;  — 
And  thou  that  art  his  mate,  make  boot  of  this  :  — 
The  other  '^pointing   to  Suffolk\,  Walter    Whitmore,  is 
thy  share. 

First  Gent.  What  is  my  ransom,  master,  let  me  know. 

Mast.  A    thousand    crowns,    or   else    lay    down    your 
head. 

Mate.  And  so  much  shall  you  give,  or -off  goes    yours. 

Cap.  What,  think  you    much    to    pay  two    thousand 
crowns. 
And  bear  the  name  and  port  of  gentlemen  .''  — 
Cut  both  the  villains'  throats  ;  —  for  die  you  shall  :  — 
The  lives  of  those  which  we  have  lost  in  tight 
Be  counterpois'd  w  ith  such  a  petty  sum  ? 

First  Gent.  I'll  give  it,  sir;  and  therefore  spare  my  life. 

Sec.  Gent.  And  so  will  I,  and  write  home  for  it  straight. 

Whit.  I  lost  mine  eye  in  laying  the  prize  aboard, 
[7(3  Suf.\  And  therefore,  to  revenge  it,  shalt  thou  die  ; 
And  so  should  these,  if  I  might  have  my  will. 

Cap.  Be  not  so  rash  ;  take  ransom,  let  him  live. 

Siif.  Look  on  UiV  George, —  I  am  a  gentleman  : 
Rate  me  at  what  thou  wilt,  thou  shalt  be  paid. 

Whit.  And  so  am  I  ;  my  name  is  Walter  Whitmore. 
How  now  !  why  start 'st  thou  ?  what,  doth  death  affright  .^ 

Suf.  Thy  name  affrights  me,  in  whose  sound  is  death. 
A  cunning  man  did  calculate  my  birth, 
And  told  me  that  by  water  I  should  die  : 
Yet  let  not  this  make  thee  be  bloody-minded  ; 
Thy  name  is  Gaultier,  being  rightlv  sounded. 

Whit.  Gaultier  or   Walter,  which  it  is  I  care  not : 
Ne'er  yet  did  base  dishonor  blur  our  name. 
But  with  our  sword  we  wip'd  away  the  blot ; 
Therefore,  when  merchant-like  I  sell  revenge. 
Broke  be  my  sword,  my  arms  torn  and  defac'd. 
And  I  proclaim'd  a  coward  through  the  world  ! 

[Lays  hold  on  Suffolk 

Suf.  Stay.  Whitmore  ;  for  thy  prisoner  is  a  prince. 
The  Duke  of  Suffolk,  William  de  la  Pole. 

Whit.  The  Duke  of  Suffolk  muffled  up  in  rags ! 

K.H.VI.S7.]  I.  203. 


Act  /K]  THE  SECOND  FAKT  OF  \_Scene  I. 

Suf.  Ay,  but  these  rags  are  no  part  of  the  duke : 
Jove  sometime  went  disguis'd,  and  why  not  I  ? 

Cap.  But  Jove  was  never  slain,  as  thou  shall  be. 

Sitf.  Obscure  and  lowly  swain,  King  Henry's  blood. 
The  honorable  blood  of  Lancaster, 
Must  not  be  shed  by  such  a  jaded  groom. 
Hast  thou  not  kiss'd  thy  hand,  and  held  mv  stirrup  } 
Bare-headed  plodded  by  my  footcloth  mule. 
And  thought  thee  happy  when  I  shook  my  head  } 
How  often  hast  thou  waited  at  my  cup. 
Fed  from  my  trencher,  kneel'd  down  at  the  board, 
When  I  have  feasted  with  Queen  Margaret  ? 
Remember  it.  and  let  it  make  thee  crest-fall'n, 
Ay,  and  allay  this  thy  abortive  pride : 
How  in  our  voiding-lobby  hast  thou  stood, 
And  duly  waited  for  my  coming  forth  ? 
This  hand  of  mine  hath  writ  in  thy  behalf. 
And  therefore  shall  it  charm  thy  riotous  tongue. 

Willi.  Speak,  captain,  shall  I   stab  the  forlorn  swain  ? 

Cap.  First  let  my  words  stab  him,  as  he  hath  me. 

Siif.  Base  slave,  thy  words  are  blunt,  and  so  art  thou 

Cap.  Convey  him  hence,  and  on  our  long-boat's  side 
Strike  off  his  head. 

Suf.  Thou  dar'st  not,  for  thy  own. 

Cap.  Yes,  Pole. 

Siif.  Pole ! 

Cap.  Pole !  Sir  Pole  !  lord  ! 

Ay,  kennel,  puddle,  sink  ;  whose  filth  and  dirt 
Troubles  the  silver  spring  where  England  drinks. 
Now  will  I  dam  up  this  thy  yawning  mouth 
For  swallowing  the  treasure  of  the  realm  : 
Thy  lips,  that  kiss'd  the  queen,  shall  sweep   the  ground  ; 
And  thou,  that  smil'dst  at  good  Duke  Hum])hrey's  death. 
Against  the  sen.seless  winds  shalt  grin  in  vain. 
Who,  in  contempt,  shall  hiss  at  thee  again  : 
And  wedded  l)e  thou  to  the  hags  of  hell. 
For  daring  to  affy  a  mighty  lord 
Unto  the  daughter  of  a  worthless  king, 
Having  neither  subject,  wealth,  nor  diadem. 
By  devilish  policy  art  thou  grown  great. 
And,  like  ambitious  Sylla,  oxergorg'd 
With  gobbets  of  thy  mother's  bleeding  heart. 
By  thee  Anjou  and  Maine  were  sold  to  France  ; 

I.  2U4.  [k. II. VI. 38. 


4  =  ^/r.l  KING  HENRY  VI.  \_Scene  I. 

The  false  revolting  Normans  thorough  thee 

Disdain  to  call  us  lord  ;  and  Picardy 

Hath  slain  their  governors,  surpris'd  our  forts, 

And  sent  the  ragged  soldiers  wounded  home. 

The  princely  Warwick,  and  the  Nevils  all, — 

Whose  dreadful  swords  were  never  drawn  in  vain, — 

As  hating  thee,  are  rising  up  in  arms  : 

And  now  the  house  of  York  —  thrust  from  the  crown 

By  shameful  murder  of  a  guiltless  king 

And  lofty  proud-encroaching  tyranny  — 

Burns  with  rt'\  enging  tire  ;  whose  hopeful  colors 

Advance  our  half-fac'd  sun,  striving  to  shine, 

Under  the  which  is  writ  Iiwiiis  Jtubibus. 

The  commons  here  in  Kent  are  up  in  arms  : 

And,  to  conclude,  reproach  and  beggary 

Are  crept  into  the  palace  of  our  king. 

And  all  by  thee. —  Away  !  convey  him  hence. 

Suf.  O  that  I  were  a  god,  to  shoot  forth  thunder 
Upon  these  paltry,  servile,  abject  drudges  ! 
Small  things  make  base  men  proud  :  this  villain  here. 
Being  captain  of  a  pinnace,  threatens  more 
Than  Bargulus,  the  strong  Illyrian  pirate. 
Drones  suck  not  eagles'  blood,  but  rob  bee-hives : 
It  is  impossible  that  I  should  die 
By  such  a  lowly  vassal  as  thyself. 
Thy  words  move  rage  and  not  remorse  in  me  : 
I  go  of  message  from  the  queen  to  France ; 
I  charge  thee  waft  me  safely  cross  the  Channel. 

Cap.  Walter,— 

Whit.  Come,  Suffolk,  I  must  waft  thee  to  thy  death. 

Suf.  Gelidus  titnor  occupat  artus  :  —  it  is  thee  I  fear. 

W/ii't.  Thou  shalt  have  cause    to    fear  before   I    leave 
thee. 
What,  are  ye  daunted  now  ?  now  will  ye  stoop  } 

First  Gent.   Mv  gracious  lord,  entreat  him.  speak   him 
fair. 

Suf.  Suffolk's  imperial  tongue  is  stern  and  rough, 
Us'd  to  command,  untaught  to  plead  for  favor. 
Far  be  it  we  should  honor  such  as  these 
With  humble  suit :  no,  rather  let  my  head 
Stoop  to  the  block  than  these  knees  bow  to  any. 
Save  to  the  God  of  heaven  and  to  my  king; 
And  sooner  dance  upon  a  bloody  pole 

K.ll.VI.sg,]  I.  20;. 


4r/ /K]  THE  SECOND  PART  OF  {Scene  II. 

Than  stand  uncover'd  to  this  vulgar  groom, 
'i'rue  nobihty  is  exempt  from  fear  :  — 
More  can  I  bear  than  you  dare  execute. 

Cap.  Hale  him  away,  and  led  him  talk  no  more. 

Siff.  Come,  soldiers,  show  what  cruelty  ye  can. 
That  this  my  death  may  never  be  forgot !  — 
Great  men  oft  die  by  vile  besonians  : 
A  Roman  svvorder  and  banditto  slave 
Murder'd  sv,  eet  Tully  ;  Brutus'  bastard  hand 
Stabb'd  Julius  Cajsar  ;  savage  islanders 
Pompey  the  Great ;  and  Suffolk  dies  by  pirates. 

[Exeuiif  Whit  more  and  olhcrs  ivith  Suffolk, 

Cap.  And  as  for  these  w'hose  ransom  we  have  set. 
It  is  our  pleasure  one  of  them  depart :  — 
Therefore  come  you  with  us,  and  let  him  go. 

YExaoit  all  except  the  First  Gentleman. 

Re-en ter  W H rr M ( ) R E  7f ////    Suffolk's  body. 

Whit.  There  let  his  head  and  lifeless  body  lie, 
Until  the  queen  his  mistress  bury  it.  S^Exit. 

First  Gent.  O  barbarous  and  bloody  spectacle ! 
His  body  will  I  bear  unto  the  king  : 
If  he  revenge  it  not,  yet  will  his  friends ; 
So  will  the  queen,  that  living  held  him  dear. 

[Exit  with  the  body. 

Scene  J  I.     Blackheath. 
Enter  GEORGE  Bevis  and  ]on^  Holland. 

Geo.  Come,  and  get  thee  a  sword,  though  made  of  a 
lath  :  they  have  been  up  these  two  days. 

John,  They  have  the  more  need  to  sleep  now,  then. 

Geo.  I  tell  thee,  Jack  Cade  the  clothier  means  to  dress 
the  commonwealth,  and  turn  it,  and  set  a  new  nap  upon 
it. 

John.  So  he  had  need,  for  'tis  threadbare.  Well,  I 
say  it  was  never  merry  world  in  England  since  gentlemen 
came  up. 

Geo.  O  miserable  age!  virtue  is  not  regarded  in  handi- 
crafts-men. 

John.  The  nobility  think  scorn  to  go  in  leath-er  aprons. 

Geo.  Nay,  more,  the  king's  council  are  no  good  work- 
men. 

I.  ao6.  [K.H.VI.60. 


Aci/r.]  KING  HENR V  1 7.  [Scene  IL 

[o/iii.  True  ;  and  yet  it  is  said, —  labor  in  thy  vocation  ; 
which  is  as  much  to  say  as, —  let  the  magistrates  be 
laboring  men  ;  and  therefore  should  we  be  magistrates. 

Geo.  Thou  hast  hit  it ;  for  there's  no  better  sign  of  a 
brave  mind  than  a  hard  hand. 

John.  I  see  them !  I  see  them  I  There's  Best's  son, 
the  tanner  of  Wingham,— 

Geo.  He  shall  have  the  skins  of  our  enemies,  to  make 
dog's-leather  of. 

John.  And  Dick  the  butcher, — 

Geo.  Then  is  sin  struck  down  like  an  ox,  and  iniquity's 
throat  cut  like  a  calf. 

John.  And  Smith  the  weaver, — 

Geo.  Ar^o,  their  thread  of  life  is  spun. 

John.  Come,  come,  let's  fall  in  with  them. 

Drum.     Enter  Cade,   Dick  the  Butcher,  Smith   the 
Weaver,  and  others  in  gi-cat  number . 

Cade.  We  John  Cade,  so  termed  of  our  supposed 
father, — 

Dick.  \aside'\  Or  rather,  of  stealing  a  cade  of  her- 
rings. 

Cade.  For  our  enemies  shall  fall  before  us, —  inspired 
with  the  spirit  of  putting  down  kings  and  princes, —  Com- 
mand silence. 

Dick.  Silence  ! 

Cade.  My  father  was  a  Mortimer, — 

Dick  \_aside\  He  was  an  honest  man,  and  a  good  brick- 
layer. 

Cade.  My  mother  a  Plantagenet, — 

Dick  \aside\  I  knew  her  well  ;    she  was  a  midwife. 

Cade.   My  wife  descended  of  the  Lacies, — 

Dick  \aside\  She  was,  indeed,  a  pedler's  daughter, 
and  sold  many  laces. 

Smith  \asidc\  But  now  of  late,  not  able  to  travel  with 
her  furred  pack,  she  washes  bucks  here  at  home. 

Cade.  Therefore  I  am  of  an  honorable  house. 

Dick  \aside\  Ay,  by  mv  faith,  the  field  is  honorable  ; 
and  there  was  he  born,  under  a  hedge, —  for  his  father 
had  never  a  house  but  the  cage. 

Cade.  Valiant  I  am. 

Smith  \asidc\   'A  must  needs  ;  for  beggary  is  valiant. 

Cade.  I  am  able  to  endure  much. 

K.H  VI. 6l.]  I.  207. 


A ct  II '.]  THE  SECOND  PA RT  OF  {Scene  II. 

Dick  \aside\  No  question  of  that  ;  for  I  have  seen 
him  whipped  three  market-days  together. 

Cade.   I  fear  neither  sword  nor  fire. 

Stnit/i.  [aside]  He  need  not  fear  the  sword  ;  for  his 
coat  is  of  proof. 

Dick  [aside]  But  methinks  he  should  stand  in  fear  of 
fire,  being  burnt  i'  the  hand  for  steaUng  of  sheep. 

Cade.  Be  brave,  then  ;  for  your  captain  is  brave,  and 
vows  reformation.  There  shall  be  in  England  seven  half- 
penny loaves  sold  for  a  penny  :  the  three-hooped  pot  shall 
have  ten  hoops  ;  and  I  will  make  it  felony  to  drink  small 
beer  :  all  the  realm  shall  be  in  common  ;  and  in  Cheap- 
side  shall  my  palfrey  go  to  grass :  and  when  I  am  king, — 
as  king  I  will  be, — 

All.  God  save  your  majesty  ! 

Cade.  I  thank  you,  good  people :— there  shall  be  no 
money  ;  all  shall  eat  and  drink  on  my  score ;  and  I  will 
apparel  them  all  in  one  livery,  that  they  may  agree  like 
brothers,  and  worship  me  their  lord. 

Dick.  The  first  thing  we  do,  let's  kill  all  the  lawyers. 

Cade.  Nay,  that  I  mean  to  do.  Is  not  this  a  lament- 
able thing,  that  of  the  skin  of  an  innocent  lamb  should 
be  made  parchment .''  that  parchment,  being  scribbled 
o'er,  should  undo  a  man  .-'  Some  say  the  bee  stings  :  but 
I  say,  'tis  the  bee's  wax  ;  for  I  did  but  seal  once  to  a 
thing,  and  I  was  never  mine  own  man  since. —  How  now  ! 
who's  there  .'' 

Enter  some,  bringing  in  the  Clerk  of  Chatham. 

Smith.  The  Clerk  of  Chatham  :  he  can  write  and  read 
and  cast  accompt. 

Cade.  O  monstrous  ! 

Smith.  We  took  him  setting  of  boys'  copies. 

Cade.  Here's  a  villain  ! 

Smith.   'Has  a  book  in  his  pocket  with  red  letters  in't. 

Cade.  Nay,  then,  he  is  a  conjurer. 

Dick.  Nay,  he  can  make  obligations,  and  write  court- 
hand. 

Cade.  1  am  sorry  for't  :  the  man  is  a  proper  man,  of 
mine  honor;  unless  1  find  him  guiltv,  he  shall  not  die.— 
Come  hither,  sirrah,  I  must  examine  thee  :  what  is  thy 
name  } 

Clerk.  Emmanuel. 

I.  ao9.  lK.h.vi.62. 


AcrJr.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  \_Scen,ir 

Dick.  They  use  to  write  it  on  the  top  of  letters  :  —  'twill 
go  hard  with  you. 

Cade.  Let  me  alone. —  Dost  thou  use  to  write  thy 
name }  or  hast  thou  a  mark  to  thyself,  like  an  honest 
plain-dealing  man .' 

Clerk.  Sir,  I  thank  tiod,  1  have  been  so  well  brought 
up  that  I  can  write  my  name. 

All.  He  hath  confessed  :  away  with  him  !  he's  a  villain 
and  a  traitor. 

Cade.  Away  with  him,  I  say  !  hang  him  with  his  pen 
and  inkhorn  about  his  neck. 

[Exeunt  some  wi't/i  the  Clerk. 

Enter  Michael. 

Mich.  Where's  our  general  } 

Cade.  Here  I  am,  thou  particular  fellow. 

Mich.  Fly,  fly,  fly !  Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his 
brother  are  hard  by,  with  the  king's  forces. 

Cade.  Stand,  villain,  stand,  or  I'll  fell  thee  down.  He 
shall  be  encountered  with  a  man  as  good  as  himself :  he  is 
but  a  knight,  is  'a? 

Mich.  No. 

Cade.  To  equal  him,  I  will  make  myself  a  knight  pre- 
sently. [Kftecls.]  Rise  up  Sir  John  Mortimer.  [Rises.] 
Now  have  at  him  ! 

Enter  Sir  Humphrey   Stafford  ajid  William  his 
brother,  with  drum  and  Forces. 

Staf.  Rebellious  hinds,  the  filth  and  scum  of  Kent, 
Mark'd  for  the  gallows,  lay  your  weapons  down  ; 
Home  to  your  cottages,  forsake  this  groom  :  — 
The  king  is  merciful,  if  you  revolt. 

W.  Staf.  But  angry,  wrathful,  and  inclin'd  to  blood. 
If  you  go  forward  ;  therefore  yield,  or  die. 

Cade.  As  for  these  silken-coated  slaves,  I  pass  not: 
It  is  to  you,  good  people,  that  I  speak, 
O'er  whom,  in  time  to  come,  I  hope  to  reign ; 
For  I  am  rightful  heir  unto  the  crown. 

Staf.    Villain,  thy  father  was  a  plasterer  ; 
And  thou  thyself  a  shearman, —  art  thou  not  ? 

Cade.  And  Adam  was  a  gardener. 

W.  Staf.  And  what  of  that } 

Cade.  Marry,  this  :  —  Edmund  Mortimer,  Earl  of  March. 

K.H.VI  63.]  I.  209. 


Aci  /y.]  THE  SECOND  PAKT  OF  [Sc-tne  II. 

Married  the  Duke  of  Clarence'  daughter, —  did  he  not? 

Siaf.  Ay,  sir. 

Cade.  By  her  he  had  two  children  at  one  birth. 

W.  Staf.  That's  false. 
■  Cade.  Ay,  there's  the  question  ;  but  I  say  'tis  true  : 
The  elder  of  them,  being  put  to  nurse, 
Was  by  a  beggar-woman  stol'n  away  ; 
And,  ignorant  of  his  birth  and  parentage. 
Became  a  bricklayer  when  he  came  to  age : 
His  son  am  I  ;  deny  it,  if  you  can. 

Dick.  Nay,  'tis  too  true ;  therefore  he  shall  be  king. 

Smith.  Sir,  he  made  a  chimney  in  my  father's  house, 
and  the  bricks  are  alive  at  this  day  to  testify  it  ;  therefore 
deny  it  not. 

Staf.  And  will  you  credit  this  base  drudge's  words, 
That  speaks  he  knows  not  what } 

All.  Ay,  marry,  will  we  ;  therefore  get  ye  gone. 

W.  Staf.  Jack  Cade,  the  Duke  of  York  hath  taught 
you  this. 

Cade  \aside"\  He  lies,  for  I  invented  it  myself. 
Go  to,  sirrah,  tell  the  king  for  me,  that,  for  his  father's 
sake,  Henry  the  Fifth,  in  whose  time  boys  went  to  span- 
counter  for  French   crowns,  1  am  content  that  he  shall 
reign  ;  but  Fll  be  protector  over  him. 

Dick.  And  furthermore,  we'll  have  the  Lord  Say's 
head  for  selling  the  dukedom,  of  Maine. 

Cade.  And  good  reason  ;  for  thereby  is  England 
mained,  and  fain  to  go  with  a  staff,  but  that  my  puissance 
holds  it  up.  Fellow  kings,  I  tell  you  that  that  Lord  Say 
hath  gelded  the  commonwealth,  and  made  it  an  eunuch  : 
and  more  than  that,  he  can  speak  French  ;  and  therefore 
he  is  a  traitor. 

Staf.  O  gross  and  miserable  ignorance ! 
Cade.  Nay,  answer,  if  you  can  :  —  the  Frenchmen  are 
our  enemies ;  go  to,  then,  I  ask  but  this,—  can  he  that 
speaks  with  the  tongue  of  an  enemy  be  a  good  counsel- 
lor, or  no  } 

All.  No,  no;  and  therefore  we'll  have  his  head. 
W.  Staf.  Well,  seeing  gentle  words  will  not  prevail. 
Assail  them  with  the  army  of  the  king. 

Staf.  Herald,  away;  and  throughout  every  town 
Proclaim  them  traitors  that  are  up  with  Cade; 
That  those  which  fly  before  the  battle  ends 

I.  2IO.  [k,h.vi.04. 


Aci  IK]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [_S:enes  I/I-IVi. 

May,  even  in  their  wives'  and  cliildren's  sight, 
Be  hang'd  up  for  example  at  their  doors  :  — 
And  you  that  be  the  king's  friends,  follow  me. 

[Exeunt  the  two  Staffords  and  Forces. 

Cade.  And  you  that  love  the  commons,  follow  me. 
Now  show  yourselves  men  ;  'tis  for  liberty. 
We  will  not  leave  one  lord,  one  gentleman  : 
Spare  none  but  such  as  go  in  clouted  shoon  ; 
For  they  are  thrifty  honest  men,  and  such 
\s  would  —  but  that  they  dare  not  —  take  our  parts. 

Dick.  They  are  all  in  order,  and  march  toward  us. 

Cade.  But  then  are  we  in  order  when  we  are  most  out 
of  order.     Come,  march  forward  !  {Exeunt. 

Scene  III.     Another  part  of  Blackheath. 

Alarums.  The  two  parties  enter  and  fight,  and  both  the 
Staffords  are  slain. 

Cade.  Where's  Dick,  the  butcher  of  Ashford  ? 

Dick.  Here,  sir. 

Cade.  They  fell  before  thee  like  sheep  and  oxen,  and 
thou  behavedst  thyself  as  if  thou  hadst  been  in  thine  own 
slaughter-house  :  therefore  thus  will  I  reward  thee, —  the 
Lent  shall  be  as  long  again  as  it  is ;  and  thou  shalt  have 
a  license  to  kill  for  a  hundred  lacking  one  a  week. 

Dick.  I  desire  no  more. 

Cade.  And,  to  speak  truth,  thou  deservest  no  less. 
This  monument  of  the  victory  will  I  bear  [putting  on 
part  of  Sir  H.  Stafford's  arnior\  ;  and  the  bodies  shall 
be  dragged  at  mv  horse'  heels  till  I  do  come  to  London, 
where  vve  will  have  the  mayor's  sword  borne  before  us. 

Dick.  If  we  mean  to  thrive  and  do  good,  break  open 
the  gaols,  and  let  out  the  prisoners. 

Cade.  Fear  not  that,  I  warrant  thee. —  Come,  let's 
march  towards  London.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  IV.     London.     A  room  in  the  palace. 

Enter  King  Henry,  reading  a  supplication  ;  the  Duke 

of  Buckingham  and'Loxdi  Say  with  him  .-  at  some 

distance.    Queen    MARGARET,    mourning   over 

Suffolk's  head. 

Q.  Mar.  Oft  have  I  heard  that  grief  softens  the  mind, 

And  makes  it  fearful  and  degenerate ; 

K.H.VI.65.]  L  211. 


Aei/y.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  {Scene  V. 

Q.  Mar.   Ah,  were  the  Duke  of  Suffolk  now  alive. 
These  Kentish  rebels  would  be  soon  appeas'd  I 

K.  Hen.  Lord  Say,  the  traitor  hateth  thee  ; 
Therefore  away  with  us  to  Killingworth. 

Say.  So  might  your  grace's  person  be  in  danger; 
The  sight  of  me  is  odious  in  their  eyes ; 
And  therefore  in  this  city  will  I  stay. 
And  live  alone  as  secret  as  I  may. 

Enter  a  second  Messenger. 

Sec.  Mess.  Jack  Cade  hath  gotten  London-bridge  ; 
The  citizens  fly  and  forsake  their  houses : 
The  rascal  people,  thirsting  after  prey, 
Join  with  the  traitor  ;  and  they  jointly  swear 
To  spoil  the  city  and  your  royal  court. 

Buck.  Then  linger  not,  my  lord  :  away,  take  horse. 

K.  Hen.  Come,  Margaret  ;  God,  our  hope,  will  succor 
us. 

Q.  Mar.  My  hope  is  gone,  now  Suffolk  is  deceas'd. 

K.   Hen.  [/o  Lord  SayA^    Farewell,   my  lord  :  trust  not 
the  Kentish  rebels. 

Buck.  Trust  nobody,  for  fear  you  be  betray'd. 

Say.   The  trust  I  have  is  in  mine  innocence. 
And  therefore  am  I  bold  and  resolute.  {^Exeunt. 

Scene  V.    The  same.      The  Tower. 

Enter  Lord  Scales  and  others,  on  the  walls.        Then 
enter  certain  Citizens,  below. 

Scales.   How  now  !  is  Jack  Cade  slain  ? 

Etrst  Cit.  No,  my  lord,  nor  likely  to  be  slain  ;  for  they 
have  won  the  bridge,  killing  all  those  that  withstand 
them  :  the  lord  mayor  craves  aid  of  your  honor  from  the 
Tower,  to  defend  the  city  from  the  rebels. 

Scales.  Such  aid  as  I  can  spare,  you  shall  command  ; 
But  I  am  troubled  here  with  them  myself, — 
The  rebels  have  assay'd  to  win  the  Tower. 
But  get  you  to  Smithfield,  and  gather  head. 
And  thither  I  will  send  you  Matthew  Gough  : 
Fight  for  your  king,  your  country,  and  your  lives  ; 
And  so,  farewell,  for  I  must  hence  again.  {^Exeunt, 


IC.H.V1.67.]  1. 2x3. 


A<ri/y.]  THF  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scene  IV. 

Think  therefore  on  revenge,  and  cease  to  weep. 
But  who  can  cease  to  weep,  and  look  on  this? 
Here  may  his  head  lie  on  m\  throbbing  breast  : 
But  where's  the  body  that  I  should  embrace? 

Buck.  What  answer  makes  your  grace  to  the  rebel's 
supplication  ? 

K.  Hen.  I'll  send  some  holy  bishop  to  entreat ; 
For  God  forbid  so  many  simple  souls 
Should  perish  by  the  sword.     And  I  myself, 
Rather  than  bloody  war  shall  cut  them  short, 
Will  parley  with  Jack  Cade  their  general  :  — 
But  stav,  I'll  read  it  over  once  again. 

Q.  Ma7-.  Ah,  barbarous  villains  !  hath  this  lovely  face 
Rul'd,  like  a  wandering  planet,  o\er  me. 
And  could  it  not  enforce  them  to  relent, 
That  were  unworthy  to  behold  the  same  ? 

K.  Hen.  Lord  Say,  Jack  Cade  hath  sworn  to  have  thy 
head. 

Say.   Ay,  but  I  hope  your  highness  shall  have  his. 

K.  Hen.  How  now,  madam  ! 
Lamenting  still,  and  mourning  Suffolk's  death? 
I  fear  me,  lo\e,  if  that  I  had  been  dead, 
Thou  wouldest  not  have  mourn 'd  so  much  for  me. 

Q.  Mar.  No,   love,   I   should   not  mourn,   but  die  for 
thee. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

K.  Hen.  How  now!  what  news?    why  com'st  thou  in 
such  haste  ? 

Mess.  The  rebels  are  in  Southwark  ;  fly,  my  lord  ! 
Jack  Cade  proclaims  himself  Lord  Mortimer, 
Descended  from  the  Duke  of  Clarence'  house  ; 
And  calls  your  grace  usurper  openly, 
And  vows  to  crown  himself  in  Westminster. 
His  army  is  a  ragged  multitude 
Of  hinds  and  peasants,  laide  and  merciless : 
Sir  Humphrey  Stafford  and  his  brother's  death 
Hath  given  them  heart  and  courage  to  proceed  : 
All  scholars,  lawyers,  courtiers,  gentlemen, 
They  call  false  caterpillars,  and  intend  their  death. 

K.  Hen.  O  graceless  men  !  they  know  not  what  they  do. 

Buck.  My  gracious  lord,  retire  to  Killingworth, 
Until  a  power  be  rais'd  to  put  them  down. 

'  812.  [k.h.vi  66. 


A  ct  IV.  J  THE  SECOND  PA  R  7  OF  [Scenes  J '/-  / '//. 

Scene  VI.    T/ie  same.     Catinon-street. 

Enter  Qa'D'R  and  /lis  fo/Io7vcrs.     He  strikes  /i is  staff'  on 
London-stone. 

•  Cade.  Now  is  Mortimer  lord  of  this  city.  And  here, 
sitting  upon  London-stone,  I  charge  and  command,  that, 
of  the  city's  cost,  the  pissing-conduit  run  nothing  but 
claret  wine  this  first  year  of  our  reign.  And  now  hence- 
forward it  shall  be  treason  for  any  that  calls  me  other 
than  Lord  Mortimer. 

Enter  a  Soldier,  running. 

.     Sold.  Jack  Cade  !  Jack  Cade  ! 

Cade.  Knock  him  down  there.  [  They  kill  him. 

Smith.  If  this  fellow  be  wise,  he'll  never  call  ye  Jack 
Cade  more  :  I  think  he  hath  a  very  fair  warning. 

Dick.  My  lord,  there's  an  army  gathered  together  in 
Smithfield. 

Cade.  Come,  then,  let's  go  fight  with  them  :  but  first, 
go  and  set  London-bridge  on  fire;  and,  if  you  can,  burn 
down  the  Tower  too.     Come,  let's  away.  {Exeicnt. 

Scene  VII.      The  same.     Smithfield. 

Alarums.  Enter,  on  one  side,  C\D^  and  his  eompanv  ; 

on  the  other,  C\i\ze.\\s,and  the  King's  Forces,  headed 

by  Matthew  Gough.    They  fight  ,■  the  Citizens 

are  routed,  and  MATTHEW  GoUGH  is  slain. 

Cade.  So,  sirs  :  —  now  go  some  and  pull  down  the 
Savoy  ;  others  to  the  inns  of  court  ;    down  with  them  all. 

Dick.  I  have  a  suit  unto  your  lordship. 

Cade.  Be  it  a  lordship,  thou  shalt  have  it  for  that  word. 

Dick.  Only,  that  the  laws  of  England  may  come  out 
of  your  mouth. 

John,  [aside]  Mass,  'twill  be  sore  law,  then  ;  for  he 
was  thrust  in  the  mouth  with  a  spear,  and  'tis  not  wnoie  yet. 

Smith,  [aside]  Nay,  John,  it  will  be  stinking  law  ;  for 
his  breath  stinks  with  eating  toasted  cheese. 

Cade.  I  have  thought  upon  it,  it  shall  be  so.  Away, 
burn  all  the  records  of  the  realm  :  my  mouth  shall  be  the 
parliament  of  England. 

John,  [aside]  Then  we  are  like  to  have  biting  statutes, 
unless  his  teeth  be  pulled  out. 

1. 214.  [k.h.vi.68 


Actli^.]  KING  HENRY  yi.  [Scene  r//. 

Cade.  And  henceforward  all  things  shall  be  in  common. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  My  lord,  a  prize,  a  prize  !  here's  the  Lord  Say, 
which  sold  the  towns  in  France  ;  he  that  made  us  pay 
one-and-twenty  tifteens,  and  one  shilling  to  the  pound, 
the  last  subsidy. 

^///^r  George  Bevis  with  the  Lord  SAY. 

Cade.  Well,  he  shall  be  beheaded  for  it  ten  times. — 
Ah,  thou  say,  thou  serge,  nay,  thou  buckram  lord  !  now 
art  thou  within  point-blank  of  our  jurisdiction  regal. 
What  canst  thou  answer  to  my  majesty  for  giving  up 
of  Normandy  unto  Monsieur  Basimecu.  the  dauphin  of 
France  }  Be  it  known  unto  thee  by  these  presence,  even 
the  presence  of  Lord  Mortimer,  that  I  am  the  besom 
that  must  sweep  the  court  clean  of  such  filth  as  thou  art. 
Thou  hast  most  traitorously  corrupted  the  youth  of  the 
realm  in  erecting  a  grammar-school  :  and  whereas,  be- 
fore, our  forefathers  had  no  other  books  but  the  score 
and  the  tally,  thou  hast  caused  printing  to  be  used  ; 
and,  contrary  to  the  king,  his  crown,  and  dignity,  thou 
hast  built  a  paper-mill.  It  will  be  proved  to  thy  face 
that  thou  hast  men  about  thee  that  usually  talk  of  a 
noun  and  a  verb,  and  such  abominable  words  as  no 
Christian  ear  can  endure  to  hear.  Thou  hast  appointed 
justices  of  peace,  to  call  poor  men  before  them  about 
matters  they  were  not  able  to  answer.  Moreover,  thou 
hast  put  them  in  prison  ;  and  because  they  could  not 
read,  thou  hast  hanged  them ;  when,  indeed,  only  for 
that  cause  they  have  been  most  worthy  to  live.  Thou 
dost  ride  in  a  foot-cloth,  dost  thou  not  ? 

Say.  What  of  that  } 

Cade.  Marry,  thou  oughtest  not  to  let  thy  horse  wear 
a  cloak,  when  honester  men  than  thou  go  in  their  hose 
and  doublets. 

Dick.  And  work  in  their  shirt  too  ;  as  myself,  for  ex- 
ample, that  am  a  butcher. 

Say.   You  men  of  Kent, — 

Dick.  What  say  you  of  Kent  .'' 

Say.  Nothing  but  this, —  'tis  bona  terra,  mala  gens. 

Cade.  Away  with    him,  away   with   him !     he  speaks 
Latin. 
K.H.V1.69.]  1. 215. 


A-'/y:\  TlfE  SF.COKP  PART  OF  [Scene  17J 

Say.  Here  me  but  speak,  and  bear  me  \\here  you  will. 
Kent,  in  the  Commentaries  Ca-sar  writ, 
Is  term'd  the  civil 'st  place  of  all  this  isle  : 
Sweet  is  the  country,  beauteous,  full  of  riches; 
The  people  liberal,  valiant,  active,  wealthy  ; 
Which  make  me  hope  you  are  not  void  of  pity. 
I  sold  not  Maine,  I  lost  not  Normandy  ; 
Yet,  to  recover  them,  would  lose  my  life. 
Justice  with  favor  have  I  always  done; 
Prayers  and  tears  have  mov'd  me,  gifts  could  never. 
When  have  I  aught  exacted  at  vour  hands, 
But  to  maintain  the  king,  the  realm,  and  you  ? 
Large  gifts  have  I  bestow'd  on  learned  clerks, 
Because  my  book  preferr'd  me  to  the  king: 
And,  seeing  ignorance  is  the  curse  of  God, 
Knowledge  the  wing  wherewith  we  fl)  to  heaven, 
Unless  you  be  possess'd  with  devilish  spirits, 
You  cannot  but  forbear  to  murder  me  : 
This  tongue  hath  parley'd  unto  foreign  kings 
For  your  behoof, — 

Cade.  Tut,  when  struckest  thou  one  blow  in  the  field  ? 

Say.  Great    men    have    reaching   hands :     oft    have    1 
struck 
Those  that  I  never  saw,  and  struck  them  dead. 

Geo.    O  monstrous  coward  !     what,    to  come  behind 
folks  } 

Say.  These  cheeks  are  pale  for  watching  for  your  good. 

Cade.  Give  him  a  box  o'  th'  ear,  and  that  will  make 
'em  red  again. 

Say.  Long  sitting  to  determine  poor  men's  causes 
Hath  made  me  full  of  sickness  and  diseases. 

Cade.  Ye  shall  have  a  hempen  caudle,  then,  and  the 
help  of  hatchet. 

Dick.  Why  dost  thou  quiver,  man  ? 

Say.  It  is  the  palsy,  and  not  fear  provokes  m«". 

Cade.  Nay,  he  nods  at  us,  as  who  should  say,  I'll  be 
even  with  you  :  I'll  see  if  his  head  will  stand  steadier  on 
a  pole,  or  no.     Take  him  away,  and  behead  him. 

Say.  Tell  me  wherein  have  I  offended  most  } 
Have  I  affected  wealth  or  honor, —  speak .-' 
Are  my  chests  till'd  up  with  extorted  gold  } 
Is  my  apparel  sumptuous  to  behold  } 
Whom  have  I  injur'd,  that  ye  seek  my  death  ? 

I.  216.  (K.H.V1.70. 


Act/K]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  VI II. 

These  hands  are  free  from  guihless  blood-shedding. 
This  breast  from  harboring  foul  deceitful  thoughts. 
O,  let  me  live  I 

Cade,  {asi'de^  I  feel  remorse  in  myself  with  his  words  ; 
but  I'll  bridle  it  :  he  shall  die,  an  it  be  but  for  pleading 
so  well  for  his  life. —  Away  with  him  I  he  has  a  familiar 
under  his  tongue  ;  he  speaks  not  o'  God's  name.  Go, 
take  him  away,  I  say,  and  strike  off  his  head  presenth  ; 
and  then  break  into  his  son-in-law's  house,  Sir  James 
Cromer,  and  strike  off  his  head,  and  bring  them  both  up- 
on two  poles  hither. 

A//.  It  shall  be  done. 

Say.  Ah,  countrymen  !  if  when  you  make  your  prayers, 
God  should  be  so  obdurate  as  yourselves, 
How  would  it  fare  with  your  departed  souls? 
And  therefore  yet  relent,  and  save  my  life. 

Cade.  Away  with  him  I  and  do  as  I  command  ye. 

[Exeniit  some  with  Lord  Say. 
The  proudest  peer  in  the  realm  shall  not  wear  a  head  on 
his  shoulders,  unless  he  pay  me  tribute ;  there  shall  not 
a  maid  be  married,  but  she  shall  pay  to  me  her  maiden- 
head ere  they  have  it :  men  shall  hold  of  me  in  capite; 
and  we  charge  and  command  that  their  wives  be  as  free 
as  heart  can  wish  or  tongue  can  tell. 

Dick.  My  lord,  when  shall  we  go  to  Cheapside,  and 
take  up  commodities  upon  our  bills  ? 

Cade.  Marry,  presently. 

All.  O  brave ! 

Re-enter  K&b(A?,,  with  the  heads  of  Lord  ?>A\  and  kis 
Son-in-law\ 
Cade.  But  is  not  this  braver?  —  Let  them  kiss  one  an- 
other, for  they  loved  well  when  they  were  alive.  Now 
part  them  again,  lest  they  consult  aijout  the  giving-up  of 
some  more  towns  in  France.  Soldiers,  defer  the  spoil  of 
the  city  until  night :  for  with  these  borne  before  us,  in- 
stead of  maces,  will  we  ride  through  the  streets  ;  and  at 
every  corner  have  them  kiss. —  Away  !  [Exeunt. 

Scene  VIII.      Southwark. 

Alarums.     Enter  Cade  and  all  kis  rabblement. 

Cade.  Up  Fish-street  I  down  Saint  Magnus'-corner ! 
Kill  and  knock  down  I  throw    them  into  the  Thames  !^ 

K.H.V1.71.]  1. 217. 


/lii /r.]  r:::.  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scene  r///. 

[A  parley  sounded,  then  a  retreat.]  What  noise  is 
this  I  hear  ?  Dare  any  be  so  bold  to  sound  retreat  or 
parley,  when  I  comnumd  them  kill  ? 

Enter  Buckingham  and  old  Clifford,  with  Forces. 

Buck.  Ay,  here  they  be  that  dare  and  will  disturb  thee  : 
Know,  Cade,  we  come  ambassadors  from  the  king 
Unto  the  commons  whom  thou  hast  misled  ; 
And  here  pronounce  free  pardon  to  them  all 
That  will  forsake  thee  and  go  home  in  peace. 

O.  Clif.  What  say  ye,  countrymen  ?  will  ye  relent, 
And  yield  to  mercy  whilst  'tis  offer'd  you  ; 
Or  let  a  rebel  lead  you  to  your  deaths  ? 
Who  loves  the  king,  and  will  embrace  his  pardon. 
Fling  up  his  cap,  and  say,  "  God  save  his  majesty !  " 
Who  hateth  him,  and  honors  not  his  father, 
Henry  the  Fifth,  that  made  all  France  to  quake, 
Shake  he  his  weapon  at  us,  and  pass  by. 

All.  God  save  the  king  !  God  save  the  king  ! 

Cade.  What,  Buckingham  and  Clifford,  are  ye  so  brave  ? 
—  And  you,  base  peasants,  do  ye  believe  them .''  will  you 
needs  be  hanged  with  your  pardons  about  your  necks? 
Hath  my  sword  therefore  broke  through  London  gates, 
that  you  should  leave  me  at  the  White  Hart  in  South- 
ward }  I  thought  ye  would  never  have  given  out  these 
arms  till  you  had  recovered  your  ancient  freedom  :  but 
you  are  all  recreants  and  dastards,  and  delight  to  live  in 
slaver}-  to  the  nobility.  Let  them  break  your  backs  with 
burdens,  take  your  houses  over  your  heads,  ravish  your 
wives  and  daughters  before  your  faces  :  for  me,  1  will 
make  shift  for  one;  and  su,  Gods  curse  l.^i.t  upon  you 
all! 

All.  We'll  follow  Cade  !  we'll  follow  Cade  I 

O.  Clif.  Is  Cade  the  son  of  Henry  the  P"ifth, 
That  thus  you  do  exclaim  you'll  go  with  him? 
Will  he  conduct  you  through  the  heart  of  France, 
And  make  the  meanest  of  you  earls  and  (hikes? 
Alas,  he  hath  no  home,  no  place  to  fly  to  ; 
Nor  knows  he  how  to  live  but  by  the  spoil, 
Unless  by  robbing  of  your  friends  and  us. 
Were't  not  a  shame,  that  whilst  you  live  at  jar. 
The  fearful  French,  whom  you  late  vanquished, 
Should  make  a  start  o'er  seas,  and  vanquish  you  ? 

I.  318.  I.K.H.V1.72. 


Ac^  //'.]  }C/m7  HENRV  VI.  \,Scene  tX. 

Methinks  already  in  this  civil  broil 
I  see  them  lording  it  in  London  streets, 
Crying  "  Viliaco  !  "  unto  all  they  meet. 
Better  ten  thousand  base-born  Cades  miscarry 
Than  you  should  stoop  unto  a  Frenchman's  mercy. 
To  France,  to  France,  and  get  what  you  have  lost  ; 
Spare  England,  for  it  is  your  native  coast  : 
Henry  hath  money,  you  are  strong  and  manly  ; 
God  on  our  side,  doubt  not  of  victorv. 

All.  A.  Clifford  !  a  Clifford  !  We'll  follow  the  king  and 
Clifford. 

Cade.  Yaside\  Was  ev-er  feather  so  lightly  blown  to 
and  fro  as  this  multitude  }  the  name  of  Henry  the  Fifth 
hales  them  to  an  hundred  mischiefs,  and  makes  them 
leave  me  desolate.  I  see  them  lay  their  heads  together 
to  surprise  me :  my  sword  make  way  for  me,  for  here  is 
no  staying.— In  despite  of  the  devils  and  hell,  have 
through  the  very  middest  of  you!  and  heavens  and  hon- 
or be  witness  that  no  want  of  resolution  in  me,  but  only 
my  followers'  base  and  ignominious  treason,  makes  me 
betake  me  to  my  heels.  [Exit. 

Bitck.  What,  is  he  fled  ?  Go  some,  and  follow  him  : 
And  he  that  brings  his  head  unto  the  king 
Shall  have  a  thousand  crowns  for  his  reward. — 

[Exeunt  some  of  t/ie>n. 
YoWo'w  me,  soldiers  :  we'll  devise  a  mean 
To  reconcile  you  all  unto  the  king.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  IX.     Killingworth  Castle. 

Trumpets  sounded.      Enter  King  Henry,  Queen  MAR- 
GARET, atid  Somerset,  on  the  terrace  of  the  castle, 

K.  Hen.  Was  ever  king  that  joy'd  an  earthly  throne. 
And  could  command  no  more  content  than  I .'' 
No  sooner  was  I  crept  out  of  my  cradle 
But  I  was  made  a  king,  at  nine  months  old  : 
Was  never  subject  long'd  to  be  a  king- 
As  I  do  long  and  wish  to  be  a  subject. 

Enter  Buckingham  a-v^/r^/^' Clifford. 

Buck.  Health  and  glad  tidings  to  your  majesty  ! 

K.    Hen.  Why,   Buckingham,    is  the  traitor  Cade  sur- 
pris'd  ? 
Or  is  he  but  retir'd  to  make  him  strong  } 
K.H.V1.73.]  1. 219. 


^ct  11:1  THS  SECOA  D  r.  I  KT  or  [Sce>n-  I X 

Enter,  below,  a   nuinber  of  Cade's  follozvers,  luiih  /mi- 
ters about  t/iei'r  necks. 

O.  Cltf.  He's    fled,   my    lord,    and   all    his  powers   do 
yield  ; 
And  humbly  thus,  with  halters  on  their  necks. 
Expect  your  highness'  doom,  of  life  or  death. 

K.  Hen.  Then,  heaven,  set  ope  thy  everlasting  gates. 
To  entertain  my  vows  of  thanks  and  praise !  — 
Soldiers,  this  day  have  you  redeem 'd  your  lives, 
And  show'd  how  well  you  love  your  prince  and  country  : 
Continue  still  in  this  so  good  a  mind, 
And  Henry,  though  he  be  infortunate. 
Assure  yourselves,  will  never  be  unkind  : 
And  so,  with  thanks  and  pardon  to  you  all, 
I  do  dismiss  you  to  your  several  countries. 

All.  God  save  the  king  !  God  save  the  king ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Please  it  your  grace  to  be  adv^rtis^d 
The  Duke  of  York  is  newly  come  from  Ireland  ; 
And  with  a  puissant  and  a  mighty  power 
Of  savage  gallowglasses  and  stout  kerns 
Is  marching  hitherward  in  proud  array  ; 
And  still  proclaimeth,  as  he  comes  along, 
His  arms  are  only  to  remove  from  thee 
The  Duke  of  Somerset,  whom  he  terms  a  traitor. 

K.  Hen.  Thus  stands  my  state,  'twixt  Cade  and  York 
distress'd  ; 
Like  to  a  ship  that,  having  scap'd  a  tempest, 
Is  straightway  calm'd,  and  boarded  with  a  pirate  : 
But  now  is  Cade  driven  back,  his  men  dispers'd  ; 
And  now  is  York  in  arms  to  second  him. — 
I  pray  thee,  Buckingham,  go  thou  and  meet  him  ; 
And  ask  him  what's  the  reason  of  these  arms. 
Tell  him  I'll  send  Duke  Edmund  to  the  Tower;  — 
And,  Somerset,  we  will  commit  thee  thither. 
Until  his  army  be  dismiss'd  from  him. 

Som.  My  lord, 
I'll  yield  myself  to  prison  willingly. 
Or  unto  death,  to  do  my  country  good. 

K.  Hen.  In  any  case,  be  not  too  rough  in  terms  ; 
For  he  is  fierce,  and  cannot  brook  hard  language. 

1. 2:0.  [K.H.V1.74 


Aci/K]  KING  HENRY  \'I.  [Scene  X. 

Buck.  I  will,  my  lord  ;  and  doubt  not  so  to  deal 
As  all  things  shall  redound  unto  your  good. 

K.  Hen.  Come,  wife,  let's  in,  and  learn  to  govern  better ; 
For  yet  may  England  curse  my  wretched  reign.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  X.    Kent.    Ihk^'s garden. 

Enter  Cade. 

Cade.  Fie  on  ambition !  fie  on  myself,  that  have  a 
sword,  and  yet  am  ready  to  famish  !  These  five  days 
hav^e  I  hid  me  in  these  woods  ;  and  durst  not  peep  out, 
for  all  the  country  is  laid  for  me ;  but  now  am  I  so  hun- 
gry, that  if  I  might  have  a  lease  of  my  life  for  a  thousand 
years,  I  could  stay  no  longer.  Wherefore,  o'er  a  brick- 
wall  have  I  climbed  into  this  garden,  to  see  if  I  can  eat 
grass,  or  pick  a  sallet  another  while,  w^hich  is  not  amiss 
to  cool  a  man's  stomach  this  hot  weather.  And  I  think 
this  word  "  sallet"  was  born  to  do  me  good  :  for  many  a 
time,  but  for  a  sallet,  my  brain-pan  had  been  cleft  with  a 
brown  bill  ;  and  many  a  time,  when  I  have  been  dry,  and 
bravely  marching,  it  hath  served  me  instead  of  a  quart- 
pot  to  drink  in  ;  and  now  the  word  "  sallet"  must  serve 
me  to  feed  on. 

Enter  Iden,  with  Servants  behind, 

Iden.  Lord,  who  would  live  turmoiled  in  the  court. 
And  may  enjoy  such  quiet  walks  as  these  } 
This  small  inheritance  my  father  left  me 
Contenteth  me,  and  worth  a  monarchy. 
I  seek  not  to  wax  great  by  others'  waning  ; 
Or  gather  wealth,  I  care  not  with  what  envy : 
Sufficeth  that  I  have  maintains  my  state. 
And  sends  the  poor  well  pleased  from  mv  gate. 

Cade.  \aside\  Here's  the  lord  of  the  soil  come  to  seize 
me  for  a  stray,  for  entering  his  fee-simple  without 
leave. —  Ah,  villain,  thou  wilt  betrav  me,  and  get  a  thou- 
sand crowns  of  the  king  by  carrying  my  head  to  him  ! 
but  I'll  make  thee  eat  iron  like  an  ostrich,  and  swallow 
my  sword  like  a  great  pin,  ere  thou  and  I  part. 

Iden.  Why.  rude  companion,  whatsoe'er  thou  be, 
I  know  thee  not  ;  why,  then,  should  1  betray  thee  } 
Is't  not  enough  to  break  into  my  garden. 
And,  like  a  thief,  to  come  to  rob  niy  ground:,, 
B1H.v1.75.]  1. 221. 


Ac/  /I'.]  THE  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scene  A\ 

Climbing  my  walls  in  spite  of  me  the  owner, 
But  thou  wijt  brave  me  with  these  saucy  terms? 

Cti{/i'.  Brave  thee !  ay,  by  the  best  blood  that  ever  was 
broached,  and  beard  thee  too.  Look  on  me  well  :  I 
have  eat  no  meat  these  five  days  ;  yet,  come  thou  aiu'  thy 
five  men,  and  if  I  do  not  leave  you  all  as  dead  as  a  door- 
nail, I  pray  God  I  may  never  eat  grass  more. 

Mt'H.  Nay,  it  shall  ne'er  be  said,  while  England  stands, 
That  Alexander  Iden,  an  esquire  of  Kent, 
Took  odds  to  combat  a  poor  famish 'd  man. 
Oppose  thy  steadfast-gazing  eyes  to  mine. 
See  if  thou  canst  outface  me  with  thy  looks  : 
Set  limb  to  limb,  and  thou  art  far  the  lesser; 
Thy  hand  is  but  a  finger  to  my  fist  ; 
Thy  leg  a  stick  compared  with  this  truncheon  ; 
My  foot  shall  fight  with  all  the  strength  thou  hast  ; 
And  if  mine  arm  be  heaved  in  the  air. 
Thy  grave  is  digg'd  already  in  the  earth. 
But  as  for  words, —  whose  greatness  answers  words, 
Let  this  my  sword  report  what  speech  forbears. 

Ca^U.  By  my  valor,  the  most  complete  champion  that 
ever  I  heard  ! —  Steel,  if  thou  turn  the  edge,  or  cut  not 
out  the  burly-boned  clown  in  chines  of  beef  ere  thou 
sleep  in  thy  sheath,  I  beseech  God,  on  my  knees,  thou 
mayst  be  turned  to  hobnails.  [  They  fight.  Cade  falls.] 
O,  I  am  slain  I  famine  and  no  other  hath  slain  me : 
let  ten  thousand  devils  come  against  me,  and  give  me 
but  the  ten  meals  I  have  lost,  and  I'd  defy  them  all. 
Wither,  garden  ;  and  be  henceforth  a  burying-place  to  all 
that  do  dwell  in  this  house,  because  the  unconquered  soul 
of  Cade  is  fled. 

Idefi.  Is't  Cade  that  I  have  slain,  that  monstrous  trai- 
tor ? 
Sword,  I  will  hallow  thee  for  this  thy  deed, 
And  hang  thee  o'er  my  tomb  when  I  am  dead  ; 
Ne'er  shall  this  blood  be  wiped  from  thy  point ; 
But  thou  shalt  wear  it  as  a  herald's  coat, 
T,'  emblaze  the  honor  that  thy  master  got. 

Cade.  Iden,  farewell  ;  and  be  proud  of  thy  victory. 
Tell  Kent  from  me,  she  hath  lost  her  best  man  ;  and  ex- 
hort all  the  world  to  be  cowards, —  for  I,  that  never  feared 
any,  am  vanquished  by  famine,  not  by  valor.  [D/es. 

Iden.  How  much  thou  wrong'st  me,  heaven  be  my  judge, 

].  222.  IhL.H.Vl    ,6 


Act  V.\  KING  HENR  Y  VI.  IScene  1. 

Die,  damned  wretch,  the  curse  of  her  that  bare  theel 
And  as  I  thrust  lliy  body  with  my  sword. 
So  wish  I,  I  might  thrust  thy  soul  to  helL 
Hence  will  I  drag-  thee  headlong  l)y  the  heels 
Unto  a  dunghill,  which  shall  be  thy  grave. 
And  there  cut  off  thy  most  ungracious  head  ; 
Which  I  will  bear  in  triumph  to  the  king, 
Leaving  thy  trunk  for  crows  to  feed  upon. 

{Exeunt  Idcn,  dragging  out  the  body,  and  Servants, 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  Fields  between  Dartford  and  BlackheatJi. 

The  King's  camp  on  one  side.     On  the  other,  enter  York 

attended  with  drum    and  colors  ;     his  Forces  at 

some  distance. 

York.    From   Ireland  thus    comes  York  to  claim   his 
right. 
And  pluck  the  crown  from  feeble  Henry's  head  : 
Ring,  bells,  aloud  ;  burn,  bonlires,  clear  and  bright ; 
To  entertain  great  England's  lawful  king. 
Ah,  sancta  majestas !  who  would  not  buy  thee  dear? 
Let  them  obey  that  know  not  how  to  rule  ; 
This  hand  was  made  to  handle  naught  but  gold. 
I  cannot  give  due  action  to  my  words. 
Except  a  sword  or  scepter  balance  it : 
A  scepter  shall  it  have, —  have  I  a  soul, — 
On  which  I'll  toss  the  flower-de-luce  of  France. 
Enter  Buckingham. 

[.4side]   Whom  have  we  here  ?    Buckingham,  to  disturb 

me  ? 
The  king  hath  sent  him,  sure  :  I  must  dissemble. 

Buck.  York,  if  thou  meanest  well,  I  greet  thee  well. 

i'ork.  Humphrey  of  Buckingham,  I  accept  thy  g«-eet- 
ing. 
Art  thou  a  messenger,  or  come  of  pleasure  .'' 

Buck.  A  messenger  from  Henry,  our  dread  lieg^ 
To  know  the  reason  of  these  arms  in  peace ; 
Or  why  thou,  being  a  subject  as  I  am. 
Against  thy  oath  and  true  allegiance  sworn, 
Shouldst  raise  so  great  a  power  without  his  leave. 
Or  dare  to  bring  thy  force  so  near  the  court. 

K.11.V1.77.]  1. 213. 


Ac<  y.]  THE  SECOND  PART  CF  [Scene  f. 

York.  [asiWe]  Scarce  can    I    speak,  my  choler  is  so 
great : 
O,  I  could  hew  up  rocks,  and  fighl  with  flint, 
I  am  so  angry  at  these  al)ject  terms ; 
And  now,  like  Ajax  Telamonius, 
On  sheep  or  oxen  could  I  spend  my  fury  ! 
I  am  far  better  born  than  is  the  king ; 
More  like  a  king,  more  kingly  in  my  thoughts  : 
But  I  nrust  make  fair  weather  yet  awhile. 
Till  Henry  be  more  weak,  and  I  more  strong. — 
O  Buckingham,  I  prithee,  pardon  me. 
That  I  have  given  no  answer  all  this  while  ; 
My  mind  was  troubled  with  deep  melancholy. 
The  cause  why  I  have  brought  this  army  hither 
Is,  to  remove  proud  Somerset  from  the  king. 
Seditious  to  his  grace  and  to  the  state. 

Buck.  That  is  too  much  presumption  on  thy  part : 
But  if  thy  arms  be  to  no  other  end. 
The  king  hath  yielded  unto  thy  demand ; 
The  Duke  of  Somerset  is  in  the  Tower. 

York.  Upon  thine  honor,  is  he  prisoner.'' 

Buck.  Upon  mine  honor,  he  is  prisoner. 

York.  Then,  Buckingham,  I  do  dismiss  my  powers. — 
Soldiers,  I  thank  you  all  ;  disperse  yourselves; 
Meet  me  to-morrow  in  Saint  George's  held. 
You  shall  have  pay  and  every  thing  you  wish. — 
And  let  my  sovereign,  virtuous  Henry, 
Command  my  eldest  son,  nay,  all  my  sons, 
As  pledges  of  my  fealty  and  love ; 
I'll  send  them  all  as  willing  as  I  live  : 
Lands,  goods,  horse,  armor,  any  thing  I  have, 
Is  his  to  use,  so  Somerset  may  die. 

Buck.  York,  I  commend  this  kind  submission  : 
We  twain  will  go  into  his  highness'  tent. 

Enter  King  Henry,  at  tend  eel. 

K.  Hen.  Buckingham,  doth  York  intend  not  harm  to  us, 
That  thus  he  marcheth  with  thee  arm  in  arm  } 

York.  In  all  submission  and  humility 
York  doth  present  himself  unto  your  highness. 

K.  Hen.    Then    what    intend    these    forces    thou    dost 

bring.' 
York.  To  heave  the  traitor  Somerset  from  hence ; 

I.  224.  [k.h.vi.78. 


Act  y.'\  KING  HEXRV  VI.  {Scene  I. 

And  fight  against  that  monstrous  rebel  Cade, 
Who  since  I  heard  to  be  discomfited. 

Enter  Iden,  with  Cade's  head. 

Iden.   If  one  so  rude  and  of  so  mean  condition 
May  pass  into  the  presence  of  a  king, 
T.o,  I  present  your  grace  a  traitor's  head. 
The  head  of  Cade,  whom  1  in  combat  slew. 

K.  Hen.  The  head  of  Cade  I  —  Great  God,  how   just 
art  thou  I  — 
O,  let  me  view  his  visage,  being  dead. 
That  living  wrought  me  such  exceeding  trouble. — 
Tell  me,  my  friend,  art  thou  the  man  that  slew  him.-* 

Iden.  I  was,  an't  like  your  majesty. 

K.  Hen.  How  art  thou  call'd  .•*  and  what  is  thy  degree  } 

Iden.  Alexander  Iden,  that's  my  name; 
A  poor  esqu're  of  Kent,  that  loves  his  king. 

Buk.  So  please  it  you,  my  lord,  'twere  not  amiss 
He  were  created  knight  for  his  good  service. 

K.  Hen.  Iden,  kneel   down.      [//<?  kneels.}     Iden,  rise 
up  a  knight.  [He  r/ses. 

We  give  thee  for  reward  a  thousand  marks ; 
And  will  that  thou  henceforth  attend  on  us. 

Iden.  May  Iden  live  to  merit  such  a  bounty, 
And  never  live  but  true  unto  his  liege  ! 

K.  Hen.  See,  Buckingham  I    Somerset  comes  with  the 
queen  : 
Go,  bid  her  hide  him  quickly  from  the  duke. 

Enter  Queen  Mar(;aret  and  Somerset. 

Q.  Mar.  For   thousand    Yorks   he   shall  not  hiciw.  his 
head, 
But  boldlv  stand  and  front  him  to  his  face. 

York.   How  now!  is  .Soinerset  at  libert)  ? 
Then,  York,  unloose  thy  long-imprison 'd  thoughts, 
And  let  thy  tongue  be  e(]ual  with  th\-  heart. 
Sh  ill  I  endure  the  sight  of  Somerset?  — 
False  king!  why  hast  tliou  broken  faith  wilh  me, 
Knowing  how  hardlv  I  can  l)rook  abuse  } 
King  did  I  call  thee?  no,  thou  art  not  king; 
Not  fit  to  govern  and  rule  multitudes, 
Which  dar'st  not,  no,  nor  canst  not  rule  a  traitor. 
That  head  of  thine  doth  not  become  a  crown  ; 

K.     .\  I.70.J  1.  ^25. 


Act  y.]  THE  SECOND  PART  OP  [Scene/. 

Thy  hand  is  made  to  grasp  a  palmer's  staff, 

And  not  to  j^race  an  awful  princely  scepter. 

That  gold  must  round  engirt  these  brows  of  mine; 

Whose  smile  and  frown,  like  to  Achilles'  spear. 

Is  able  with  the  change  to  kill  and  cure. 

Here  is  a  hand  to  hold  a  scepter  up, 

And  with  the  same  to  act  controlling  laws. 

Give  place  :  by  heaven,  thou  shalt  rule  no  more 

O'er  him  whom  heaven  created  for  thy  ruler. 

So/n.  O  monstrous  traitor  !  —  I  arrest  thee,  York, 
Of  capital  treason  'gainst  the  king  and  crown  : 
Obey,  audacious  traitor  ;  kneel  for  grace. 

York.  Wouldst  have    me    kneel .''    first  let  me  ask  of 
these,  , 

If  they  can  brook  I  bow  a  knee  to  man. — 
Sirrah,  call  in  my  sons  to  be  my  bail  :  [Ex/f  an  Attendant. 
I  know,  ere  they  v/ill  ha\'e  me  go  to  ward, 
They'll  pawn  their  swords  for  my  enfranchisement. 

Q.  Mar.  Call  hither  Clifford  ;"  bid  him  come  amain, 
To  say  if  that  the  bastard  boys  of  York 
Shall  be  the  surety  for  their  traitor  father. 

[Exit  Buckingham. 

York.  O  blood-bespotted  Neapolitan, 
Outcast  of  Naples,  England's  bloody  scourge  ! 
The  sons  of  York,  thy  betters  in  their  birth. 
Shall  be  their  father's  bail ;  and  bane  to  those 
That  for  my  surety  will  refuse  the  boys  ! 
See  where  they  come  :  I'll  warrant  they'll  make  it  good. 

Q.  Mar.  And  here  comes  Clifford  to  deny  their  bail. 

Enter,  on  one  side,   Edward    and  Richard  Planta- 

GENET,  with  Forces  ;    on   tJie  other,  old  CLIFFORD 

and  his  Son,  wit  It  Forces  also. 

O.  Clif.  Health  and  all  happiness  to  my  lord  the  king  ! 

[Kneels. 

York.  I   thank   thee,   Clifford :    say,   what  news  with 
thee  } 
Nay,  do  not  fright  us  with  an  angry  look  : 
We  are  thy  sovereign,  Clifford,  kneel  again  ; 
For  thy  mistaking  so,  wc  pardon  thee. 

O.  Clif.  This  is  my  king,  York,  I  do  not  mistake; 
But  thou  mistak'st  me  much  to  think  I  do  ;  — 
To  Bedlam  with  you  I  is  the  man  grown  mad  .'' 

I.  226.  [k.h.vi.So, 


Aci  r.]  FixG  HEXRV  rr  iscene  r. 

K.  flen.  Ay,  Clifford  ;  a  bedlam  and  anibilious  humor 
Makes  him  oppose  himself  against  his  king. 

O.  Clif.  He  is  a  traitor;  let  him  to  the  Tower, 
And  chop  away  that  factious  pate  of  his. 

(2-  Mar.  He  is  arrested,  but  will  not  obey  ; 
His  sons,  he  says,  shall  give  their  words  for  him. 

York.  Will  vou  not,  sons .'' 

Echv.  Ay,  noble  father,  if  our  words  will  serve. 

Rich.  And  if  words  will  not,  then  our  weapons  shall. 

O.  Clif.  Why,  what  a  brood  of  traitors  ha\'e  we  here ! 

Yor!;.  Look  in  a  glass,  and  call  thy  image  so  : 
I  am  thy  king,  and  thou  a  false-heart  traitor.  — 
Call  hither  to  the  stake  my  two  brave  bears, 
That  with  the  very  shaking  of  their  chains 
They  may  astonish  these  fell-lurking  curs:  \dant. 

Bid  Salisbury  and  Warwick  come  to  me.   \Exit  an  Atten- 

Entcr  Warwick  r/y/^/ Salisbury  viith  Forces. 

O.  Clif.  Are  these  thy*  bears.-*    we'll  bait  thy  bears  to 
death, 
And  manacle  the  bear-ward  in  their  chains, 
If  thou  dar'st  bring  them  to  the  bailing-place. 

Rich.  Oft  have  I  seen  a  hot  o'erweening  cur 
Run  back  and  l)ite,  because  he  was  withheld  ; 
Who,  being  suffered  with  the  bear's  fell  paw, 
Hath  clapp'd  his  tail  between  his  legs  and  cried  : 
And  such  a  piece  of  service  will  you  do. 
If  you  oppose  yourselves  to  match  Lord  Warwick. 

O.  Clif.   Hence,  heap  of  wrath,  foul  indigested  lump, 
As  crooked  in  thy  manners  as  thy  shape  I 

York.  Nay,  we  shall  heat  you  thoroughly  anon. 

O.  Clif.  Take  heed,  lest  by  your  heat  you  burn  youi- 
selves. 

A'.    Hoi.  Why,    Warwick,     hath   thy  knee     forgot    t.. 
bow  ?  — 
Old  Salisbury. —  shame  to  thy  silver  hair, 
Thou  mad  misleader  of  thy  brain-sick  son  !  — 
What,  wilt  thou  on  thy  death-bed  play  the  ruffian. 
And  seek  for  sorrow  with  thv  spectacles  }  — 
O,  where  is  faith  }  O.  where  is  loyalty  .•* 
If  it  be  banish'd  from  the  frosty  head. 
Where  shall  it  find  a  harbor  in  the  earth  .-'  — 
Wilt  thou  go  dig  a  grave  to  find  out  war, 

K  H.VI  8l.]  1. 217. 


Art  r.]  TirK  SECONV  PART  OF  [Scffie  / 

And  stain  thint  honorable  age  with  blood  ? 
Why  art  thou  old,  and  want'st  experience  ? 
Or  wherefore  dost  abuse  it,  if  thou  hast  it  ? 
For  shame !  in  duty  bend  thy  knee  to  me, 
That  bows  unto  the  grave  with  niickle  age. 

Sal.  My  lord,  I  have  consider'd  with  myself 
The  title  of  this  most  renowned  duke  ; 
And  in  my  conscience  do  repute  his  grace 
The  rightful  heir  to  England's  royal  seat. 

K.  Hen.  Hast  thou  not  sworn  allegiance  unto  me? 

Sal.  I  have. 

K.  Hen.  Canst  thou  dispense  with  heaven  for  such  an 
oath  ? 

Sal.  It  is  great  sin  to  swear  unto  a  sin  , 
But  greater  sin  to  keep  a  sinful  oath. 
Who  can  be  bound  by  any  solemn  vow 
To  do  a  murderous  deed,  to  rob  a  man. 
To  force  a  spotless  virgin's  chastity, 
To  reave  the  orphan  of  his  patrimony. 
To  wring  the  widow  from  her  custom'd  right ; 
And  have  no  other  reason  for  this  wrong, 
But  that  he  was  bound  by  a  solemn  oath  ? 

Q.  Mar.  A  subtle  traitor  needs  no  sophister. 

K.  Hen.  Call  Buckingham,  and  bid  him  arm  himself. 

York.  Call  Buckingham,  and  all  the  friends  thou  hast, 
I  am  resolv'd  for  death  or  dignity. 

O.  Clif.  The   first    I    warrant    thee,    if    dreams    prove 
true. 

War.  You  were  best  to  go  to  bed  and  dream  again, 
To  keep  thee  from  the  tempest  of  the  field. 

O.  Clif.  I  am  resolv'd  to  bear  a  greater  storm 
Than  any  thou  canst  conjure  up  to-day  ; 
And  that  I'll  write  upon  thy  burgonet. 
Might  I  but  know  thee  by  thy  household  badge. 

ll'ar.  Now,  by  my  father's  badge,  old  Nevil's  crest, 
The  rampant  bear  chain'd  to  the  ragged  staff, 
This  day  I'll  wear  aloft  my  burgonet, — 
As  on  a  mountain-top  the  cedar  shows. 
That  keeps  his  leaves  in  spite  of  any  storm, — 
Even  to  affright  thee  with  the  view  thereof. 

O.  Clif.  And  from  thy  burgonet  I'll  rend  thy  bear, 
And  tread  it  underfoot  with  all  contempt. 
Despite  the  bear-ward  that  protects  the  bear. 

I.   22'^.  [K.H.VI.82. 


Act  r.]  KING  HENRY  I'l.  \Scene  11. 

V.  Clif.  And  so  to  arms,  victorious  father. 
To  quell  the  rebels  and  their  complices. 

Rich.  Fie  !  charity,  for  shame !  speak  not  in  spite, 
For  you  shall  sup  with  Jesus  Christ  to-night. 

Y.  Clif.  Foul  stigmatic,  that's  more  than  thou  canst 

tell. 
Rich.  If  not  in  heaven,  you'll  surely  sup  in  hell. 

[Exejtnt  severally. 

Scene  II.  Saint  Alban's. 

Alarums  :  excursions.     Enter  Warwick. 

War.  Clifford  of  Cumberland,  'tis  Warwick  calls  ! 
And  if  thou  dost  not  hide  thee  from  the  bear, 
Now, —  when  the  angry  trumpet  sounds  alarum. 
And  dead  men's  cries  do  till  the  empty  air, — 
Clifford,  I  say,  come  forth  and  fight  with  me  ! 
Proud  northern  lord,  Clifford  of  Cumberland, 
Warwick  is  hoarse  with  calling  thee  to  arms. 

Enter   YORK. 

How  now,  my  noble  lord  !  what,  all  a-foot  1 

York.  The  deadly-handed  Clifford  slew  my  steed  ; 
But  match  to  match  I  have  encounter'd  him. 
And  made  a  prey  for  carrion  kites  and  crows 
Even  of  the  bonny  beast  he  lov'd  so  well. 

Enter  old  CLIFFORD. 

War.  Of  one  or  both  of  us  the  time  is  come. 
York.  Hold,  Warwick,  seek  thee  out  some  other  chase, 
For  I  myself  must  hunt  this  deer  to  death. 

War.    Then,    nobly,    York ;    'tis    for   a   crown     thou 
fight'st. — 
As  I  intend,  Clifford,  to  thrive  to-day. 
It  grieves  my  soul  to  leave  thee  unassail'd.  \Exit. 

O.  Clif.  What  seest  thou  in  me,  York  }  why  dost  thou 

pause  .'' 
York.  With  thy  brave  bearing  should  I  be  in  love. 
But  that  thou  art  so  fast  mine  enemy. 

O.  Clif.  Nor  should  thy  prowess  want  praise  and  es- 
teem. 
But  that  'tis  shown  ignobly  and  in  treason. 

K.H.V1.83.]  1. 229. 


Act  v.]  THE  SECOKD  PART  OF  [Scene  11. 

York,  So  let  it  help  me  now  against  thy  sword, 
As  I  in  justice  and  true  right  express  it ! 

O.  Clif.  My  soul  and  body  on  the  action  both  ! 
York.  A  dreadful  lay  !  —  address  thee  instantly. 
O.  Clif.  La  fin  coiironne  les  ceuvres. 

[  They  fight,  and  O.  Clifford  falls  and  dies. 
York.  Thus  war  hath   given    thee    peace,  for  thou  art 
still. 
Peace  with  his  soul,  heaven,  if  it  be  thy  v^'ill !  {^Exit. 

Enter  young  CLIFFORD. 

Y,  Clif.  Shame  and  confusion !  all  is  on  the  rout ; 
Fear  frames  disorder,  and  disorder  wounds 
Where  it  should  guard.     O  war,  thou  son  of  hell. 
Whom  angry  heavens  do  make  their  minister, 
Throw  in  the  frozen  bosoms  of  our  part 
Hot  coals  of  vengeance  !    Let  no  soldier  fly  : 
He  that  is  truly  dedicate  to  war 
Hath  no  self-love  ;  nor  he  that  loves  himself 
Hath  not  essentially,  but  by  circumstance, 
The  name  of  valor. —  O,  let  the  vile  world  end, 

{Seeing  his  father's  body. 
And  the  premised  flames  of  the  last  day 
Knit  earth  and  heaven  together  ! 
Now  let  the  general  trumpet  blow  his  blast, 
Particularities  and  petty  sounds 
To  cease  !  —  Wast  thou  ordain 'd,  dear  father 
To  lose  thy  youth  in  peace,  and  to  achieve 
The  silver  livery  of  advised  age, 
And,  in  thy  reverence  and  thy  chair-days,  thus 
To  die  in  rufhan  battle.''  —  Even  at  this  sight 
My  heart  is  turn'd  to  stone  :  and  while  'tis  mine, 
It  shall  be  stony.     York  not  our  old  men  spares  ; 
No  more  will  1  their  babes :  tears  virginal 
Shall  be  to  me  even  as  the  dew  to  fire; 
And  beauty,  that  the  tyrant  oft  reclaims, 
Shall  to  my  flaming  wrath  be  oil  and  wax. 
Henceforth  1  will  not  have  to  do  with  pity: 
Meet  I  an  infant  of  the  house  of  York, 
Into  as  many  gobbets  will  I  cut  it, 
As  wild  Medea  young  Absyrtus  did : 
In  cruelty  will  I  seek  out  my  fame. — 

1. 230.  [k.h.vi.84. 


Act  J'.]  /C/.VG  HEWRY  VI.  [Scene  II. 

Come,  thou  new  ruin  of  old  Clifford's  house : 

[  Taking  up  the  body. 
As  did  j^neas  old  Anchises  bear, 
So  bear  I  thee  upon  my  manly  shoulders ; 
But  then  ^Eneas  bare  a  living  load, 
Nothing  so  heavy  as  these  woes  of  mine.  {^Exit. 

Enter  Richard  Plantagenet  and  Somerset y^/^/- 
tng,  and  SOMERSET  is  killed. 

Rich.  So,  lie  thou  there  ;  — 
For  underneath  an  alehouse'  paltry  sign, 
The  Castle  in  Saint  Alban's,  Somerset 
Hath  made  the  wizard  famous  in  his  death. — 
Sword,  hold  thy  temper  ;  heart,  be  wrathful  still : 
Priests  pray  for  enemies,  but  princes  kill.  \^Exif. 

Alarums  :    excursions.      Enter   King    HENRY,    Queen 
Margaret,  and  others,  retreating. 

Q.  Afar.  Away,   my   lord  !    you're   slow  ;    for  shame, 

away ! 
K.  Hen.  Can  we  outrun  the  heavens  ?  good  Margaret, 

stay. 
Q.  Mar.  What  are  you  made  of  ?    you'll  nor  fight  nor 
fly: 
Nor  is  it  manhood,  wisdom,  and  defense. 
To  give  the  enemy  way ;  and  to  secure  us 
By  what  we  can,  which  can  no  more  but  fly. 

[Alarum  afar  off. 
If  you  be  ta'en,  we  then  should  see  the  bottom 
Of  all  our  fortunes  :  but  if  we  haply  scape, — 
As  well  we  may,  if  not  through  your  neglect, — 
We  shall  to  London  get  :  where  you  are  lov'd  ; 
And  where  this  breach,  now  in  our  fortunes  made, 
May  readily  be  stopp'd. 

Re-enter  young  CLIFFORD. 

Y.  Clif.  But  that  my  heart's  on  future  mischief  set, 
I  would  speak  blasphemy  ere  bid  you  fly  : 
But  fly  you  must ;  uncurable  discomfit 
Reigns  in  the  hearts  of  all  our  present  part. 
Away,  for  your  relief !  and  we  will  live 
To  see  their  day,  and  them  our  fortune  give : 
Away,  my  lord,  away  !  {Exeunt. 

K.H.V1.85.]  I.   231. 


Act  v.]  TJ/E  SECOND  PART  OF  [Scene  III. 

Scene  III.    Fields  near  Saint  Albans. 

Alarums :     retreat.        Flourish  ;    then    enter     YORK, 

Richard  Plantagenet,  \\'arwick,  «;/</ Soldiers, 

ivith  drum  and  colors. 

York.  Old  Salisbury,  who  can  report  of  him, — 
That  winter  lion,  who  in  rage  forgets 
Aged  contusions  and  all  brush  of  time, 
And,  like  a  gallant  in  the  brow  of  youth, 
Repairs  him  with  occasion  ?  This  happy  day 
Is  not  itself,  nor  have  we  won  one  foot. 
If  Salisbury  be  lost. 

Rich.  My  noble  father. 

Three  times  to-day  I  holp  him  to  his  horse, 
Three  times  bestrid  him,  thrice  I  led  him  off. 
Persuaded  him  from  any  further  act : 
But  still,  where  danger  was,  still  there  I  met  him  ; 
And  like  rich  hangings  in  a  homely  house, 
So  was  his  will  in  his  old  feeble  body. 
But,  noble  as  he  is,  look  where  he  comes. 

Enter  SALISBURY. 

Sal.  Now,  by  my  sword,  well  hast  thou  fought  to-day ; 
By  the  mass,  so  did  we  all. —  I  thank  you,  Richard  : 
God  knows  how  long  it  is  I  have  to  live  ; 
And  it  hath  pleas'd  him  that  three  times  to-day 
You  have  defended  me  from  imminent  death. — 
Well,  lords,  we  have  not  got  that  which  we  have : 
'Tis  not  enough  our  foes  are  this  time  fled, 
Being  opposites  of  such  repairing  nature. 

York.   I  know  our  safety  is  to  follow  them  ; 
For,  as  I  hear,  the  king  is  fled  to  London, 
To  call  a  present  court  of  parliament. 
Let  us  pursue  him,  ere  the  writs  go  forth  :■ — 
What  says  Lord  Warwick  }  shall  we  after  them  ? 

War.  After  them  !  nay,  before  them,  if  we  can. 
Now,  by  my  faith,  lords,  'twas  a  glorious  day. 
Saint  Alban's  battle,  won  by  famous  York, 
Shall  be  eternized  in  all  age  to  come. — 
Sound  drums  and  trumpets ; — and  to  London  all : 
And  more  such  days  as  these  to  us  befall !  {Exeunt. 

I.  2^2.  [K.H.VI.P6. 


THE  THIRD  PART 


KING   HENRY   VI 


DRAMATIS    PERSONS. 

King  Henry  the  Sixth.  [Lord  Stafford. 

Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  his  [Sir  John         ) 


son. 
Louis  ix.  King  of  France. 
Duke  of  Somerset. 
Duke  of  Exeter. 
Earl  of  Oxford. 
Earl  of  Northumberland. 
Earl  of  Westmoreland. 
Lord  Clifford. 


Mortimer.  I    uncles  to  the 
'  Sir   Hugh        j  Duke  of  York. 

Morti.mer.  J 
Henry,  earl  of  Richmond,  „ 
I      )'Outh . 

[  Lord  Rivers,  brother  to  Lady 
j      Grey. 
I  Sir  William  Stanley. 


Richard  Plantagenet,  duke' Sir  John  Montgomery. 


J 


his 


I  Sir  John  Somkrville. 
Tutor  to  Rutland.      Mayor  of 

York 
Lieutenant  of    the  Tower.     A 

Nobleman. 
Two  Keepers.      A   Huntsman. 
A  Son  that  has  killed  his  father. 
A  P'ather  that  has  killed  his  son. 


of  York 

Edward, earl  of  March, 

afterwards  King 

Edward  IV., 

Edmund,  earl  of  Rut- 
land, 

GEf)RGE,         afterwards 
duke  of  Clarence, 

Richard,      afterwards 
duke  of  Gloster, 

Duke  of  Norfolk. 

Marquess  of  Montague. 

Earl  of  Warwick. 

Earl  of  Pembroke. 

Lord  Hastings. 

Soldiers,  Attendants,  Messengers,  Watchmen,  etc 

Scene  —  Duritig  part  of  the  third  ad  in   France;  during  the 
rest  of  the  flay  in  England. 


Queen  Margaret. 

Lady  Grey,  afterwards  Queen 

to  Edward  IV. 
Bona,    sister    to    the    French 

Queen. 


K.H.V1.3.] 


I-  235- 


Act/.]  THE   THIRD  PART  OP  [Scene  I. 

ACT   I. 
Scene  I.     London.      The  Parliame7it-hoi{se, 

Drums,       Some    Soldiers    of    York's   party   break   in. 

Then  enter  the  Duke  of  York,  Edward,  Richard, 

Norfolk,  Montague,  Warwick,  ami  others, 

with  white  roses  in  their  hats. 

War.  I  wonder  how  the  king  escap'd  our  hands. 

York.  While  we  pursu'd  the  horsemen  of  the  north, 
He  slily  stole  away,  and  left  his  men  : 
Whereat  the  great  Lord  of  Northumberland, 
Whose  warlike  ears  could  never  brook  retreat, 
Cheer 'd  up  the  drooping  army  ;  and  himself. 
Lord  Clifford,  and  Lord  Stafford,  all  a-breast, 
Charg'd  our  main  battle's  front,  and,  breaking  in. 
Were  by  the  swords  of  common  soldiers  slain. 

Edw.  Lord  Stafford's  father,  Duke  of  Buckingham, 
Is  either  slain  or  wounded  dangerous  ; 
I  cleft  his  beaver  with  a  downright  blow  ; 
That  this  is  true,  father,  behold  his  blood. 

[Showi/ii^'-  his  bloody  sword. 

Mont,  [to  York,  showing  his"\   And,  brother,  here's  the 

Earl  of  Wiltshire's  blood. 
Whom  I  encounter'd  as  the  battles  join'd. 

Rich.  Speak  thou  for  me,  and  tell  them  what  I  did. 

[  Throwing  down  the  Duke  of  Somerset' s  head. 

York.  Richard  hath  best  deserv'd  of  all  my  sons. — 
But,  is  your  grace  dead,  my  Lord  of  Somerset .'' 

Norf.  Such  hap  have  all  the  line  of  John  of  Gaunt  ! 

Rich.  Thus  do  I  hope  to  shake  King  Henry's  head. 

War.  And  so  do  L—  Victorious  Pnnce  of  York, 
Before  I  see  thee  seated  in  that  throne 
Which  now  the  house  of"  Lancaster  usurps, 
I  vow  by  heaven  these  eyes  shall  never  close. 
This  is  the  palace  of  the  fearful  king, 
And  this  the  regal  seat :  possess  it,  York ; 
For  this  is  thine,  and  not  King  Henry's  heirs'. 

York.  Assist  me,  then,  sweet  Warwick,  and  I  will ; 
For  hither  we  have  broken  in  by  force. 

No}f.  We'll  all  assist  vou  ;  he  thnt  Hies  shall  die. 

York.  Thanks,  gentle  Norfolk:  —stay  by  me,  my  lords  ; — 
And,  soldiers,  stay,  and  lodge  by  me  this  night. 

1. 236.  [K.H.V1.4. 


Act/.]  KIXG  I/E.\-RV  Vf.  {Scene I. 

War.  And  when  the  king  comes,  offer  him  no  violence, 
Unless  he  seek  to  thrust  you  out  perforce. 

[  Tht'  Soldiers  retire. 

York.  The  queen,  this  da)-,  here  holds  her  parliament, 
But  little  thinks  we  shall  be  of  her  council  : 
By  words  or  IjIows  here  let  us  win  our  right. 

Rich.  Arm'd  as  we  are,  let's  stay  within  this  house. 

War.  The  bloody  parliament  shall  this  be  call'd, 
Unless  Plantagenet,  duke  of  York,  be  king. 
And  bashful  flenry  depos'd,  whose  cowardice 
Hath  made  us  by-words  to  our  enemies. 

York.  Then  leave  me  not,  my  lords;  be  resolute  ; 
I  mean  to  take  possession  of  my  right. 

War.   Neither  the  king,  nor  he  that  loves  him  best, 
The  proudest  he  that  holds  up  Lancaster, 
Dares  stir  a  wing,  if  Warwick  shake  his  bells. 
I'll  plaiU  Plantagenet,  root  him  up  who  dares  : — ■ 
Resolve  thee,  Richard  ;  claim  the  English  crown. 
[  Warwick  leads  York  to  t/te  throne,  luho  seats  himself. 

Flourish.    Enter  King  Henry.  Clifford.  Northum- 
berland, Westmoreland,  Exeter,  and  others, 
luith  red  roses  in  their  hats. 

K.  Hen.  My  lords,  look  where  the  sturdy  rebel  sits, 
Even  in  the  chair  of  state :  behke  he  means  — 
Back'd  by  the  power  of  Warwick,  that  false  peer  — 
T'aspire  unto  the  crown,  aiid  reign  as  ling. — 
Earl  of  Northumberland,  he  slew  thy  father  ; 
And    thine.   Lord    Clifford  ;    and    you    both    have    vow'd 

revenge 
On  him,  his  sons,  his  favorites,  and  his  friends. 

North.   If  I  be  not,  heavens  be  reveng'd  on  me! 

Clif.  The  hope  thereof  makes  Clifford  mourn  in  steel. 

West.  What,  shall  we  suffer  this  .''  let's  pluck  him  down  : 
My  heart  for  anger  burns  ;   I  cannot  brook  it. 

K.  Hen.  Be  patient,  gentle  F.arl  of  Westmoreland. 

Clif.  Patience  is  for  poltroons,  such  as  he; 
He  durst  not  sit  there,  had  vour  father  liv'd. 
My  gracious  lord,  here  in  the  parliament 
Let  us  assail  the  family  of  York. 

North.  Well  hast  thou  spoken,  cousin  :  be  it  so. 

K.  Hen.  Ah,  know  you  not  the  city  favors  them. 
And  they  have  troops  of  soldiers  at  their  beck^ 

K.H.VI.S.J  L  237. 


Ad/.]  T -K  TH    'DP.     ?T  Of  {Scene  I. 

Exe.  But  when  the  duke  is  slain,  they'll  quickly  fly. 
K.  Hen.  Far  be  the  thought  of  this  from  Henry's  heart. 
To  make  a  shambles  of  the  parliament-house  ! 
Cousin  of  Exeter,  frowns,  words,  and  threats 
Shall  be  the  war  that  Henry  means  to  use. 

[  They  advance  fo  the  Duke. 
Thou  factious  Duke  of  York,  descend  my  throne, 
And  kneel  for  grace  and  mercy  at  my  feet ; 
I  am  thy  sovereign. 

York.  Thou'rt  deceiv'd  ;   I'm  thine. 

Exe.  For  shame,  come  down  :  he  made  thee   Duke  of 
York. 

York.  'Twas  my  inheritance,  as  the  earldom  was. 
Exe.  Thy  father  was  a  tnutor  to  the  crown. 

War.  Exeter,  thou'rt  a  traitor  to  the  crown 
In  following  this  usurping  Henry. 

Clif.  Whom  should  he  follow  but  his  natural  king.'' 

War.  True,  Clifford  ;  and  that's  Richard  duke  of  York. 

K.  Hen.  And  shall  I  stand,  and  thou  sit  in  mv  throne.'' 

York.  It  must  and  shall  be  so  :  content  thyself. 

War.  Be  Duke  of  Lancaster  ;  let  him  be  king. 

West.  He  is  both  king  and  Duke  of  Lancaster  ; 
And  that  the  Lord  of  Westmoreland  shall  maintain. 

War.  And  Warwick  shall  disprove  it.     You  forget 
That  we  are  those  who  chas'd  vou  from  the  field. 
And  slew  your  fathers,  and  with  colors  spread 
March'd  through  the  city  to  the  palace-gates. 

North.  No,  Warwick,  I  remember  't  to  my  grief; 
And,  by  his  soul,  thou  and  thy  house  shall  rue  it. 

IVesf.  Plantagenet,  of  thee,  and  these  thy  sons, 
Thv  kinsmen,  and  thy  friends,  I'll  have  more  lives 
Than  drops  of  blood  were  in  my  father's  veins. 

C/if.   Urge  it  no  more;  lest  that,  instead  of  words, 
I  send  thee,  Warwick,  such  a  messenger 
As  shall  revenge  his  death  before  I  stir. 

War.  Poor  Clifford  !  how  I  scorn  his  worthless  threats  ! 

York.  Will  you  we  show  our  title  to  the  crown  ? 
If  not,  our  swords  shall  plead  it  in  the  field. 

A'.  ///•'/.  What  title  hast  thou,  traitor,  to  the  crown  ? 
Thv  father  was,  as  thou  art,  Duke  of  York; 
Thy  grandfather,  Roger  Mortimer,  earl  of  March: 
I  am  the  son  of  Henry  the  Fifth, 

I.  2.i8,  [k.h.vi.6. 


\ 

Aci/.]  KrNG  f!F.NRY  VI.  \ Scene  t. 

Who  made  the  Dauphin  and  the  French  to  stoop. 
And  sei^'d  upon  then"  towns  and  i)rovinces. 

War.  Talk  not  of  France,  sith  thou  hast  lost  it  all. 

K.  Hen.  The  lord  protector  lof^t  it,  and  not  I : 
When  I  was  crown'd  I  w'as  but  nine  months  old. 

Rich.  You're  old  enough  now,  and  yet,  methinks,  you 
lose. — 
Tear  the  crown,  father,  from  th'  usurper's  head. 

Edw.  Sweet  father,  do  so  ;  set  it  on  your  head. 

Mofit.  [/ft  i'o?-/^]  Good  brother,  as  thou  lov'st  and  hon- 
or's! arms, 
Let's  fight  it  out,  and  not  stand  caviling  thus. 

Rich.  Sound  drums  and  trumpets,  and  the  king  will  fly. 

York.  Sons,  peace ! 

K.  Heji.  Peace  thou  !  and  give   King  Henry  leave  to 
speak. 

War.  Planlagenet  shall  speak  first  :  hear  him,  lords  ; 
And  be  you  silent  and  attenli\  e  too, 
For  he  that  interrupts  him  shall  not  live. 

K.  Hen.  Think'st  thou  that  I  will  leave  my  kingly  throne, 
Wherein  my  grandsire  and  my  father  sat .-' 
No  ;  first  shall  war  unpeople  this  my  realm  ; 
Ay,  and  their  colors  —  often  borne  in  France, 
And  now  in  England  to  our  heart's  great  sorrow  — 
Shall  be  my  winding  sheet. —  Why  faint  you,  lords  ? 
My  title's  good,  and  better  far  than  his. 

War.   But  prove  it,  Henry,  and  thou  shalt  be  king. 

K.  He/1.  Henry  the  Fourth  by  conquest  got  the  crown. 

York.  'Twas  by  rebellion  against  his  king. 

K.  Hen.  [a.<;ide\   I    know  not  what   to  say;  my  title's 
weak.^ — 
Tell  me,  may  not  a  king  adopt  an  heir  } 

York.  W^hat  then  } 

K.  Hen.  An  if  he  may,  then  am  I  lawful  king ; 
For  Richard,  in  the  view  of  many  lords, 
Resign 'd  the  crown  to  Henry  the  Fourth, 
Whose  heir  my  father  was,  and  I  am  his. 

York.  He  rose  against  him,  being  his  sovereign, 
And  made  him  to  resign  his  crown  perforce. 

War.  Suppose,  my  lords,  he  did  it  unconstrain'd, 
Think  you  'twere  prejudicial  to  his  crown  } 

Exe.  No  ;  for  he  could  not  so  resign  his  crown 
But  that  the  next  heir  should  succeed  and  reign. 

IC  H.VI.7.]  I.  235, 


A.-i /.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  {Sctne /. 

K.  Hen.  Art  thou  against  us,  Duke  of  Exeter? 

Exe.  His  is  the  right,  and  therefore  pardon  me. 

York.  Why  whisper  you,  my  lords,  and  answer  not? 

Exe.  My  conscience  tells  me  he  is  lawful  king. 

K.  Hen.  \^aside\  All  will  revolt  from  me,  and  turn  to  him. 

North.  Plantagenet,  for  all  the  claim  thou  lay'st, 
Think  not  that  Henry  shall  be  so  depos'd. 

War.  Depos'd  he  shall  be,  in  despite  of  all. 

North.  Thou  art  deceiv'd  :  'tis  not  thy  southern  power, 
Of  Esse.K,  Norfolk,  Suffolk,  nor  of  Kent  — 
Which  makes  thee  thus  presumptuous  and  proud  — 
Can  set  the  duke  up,  in  despite  of  me. 

Clif.  King  Henry,  be  thy  title  right  or  wrong, 
Lord  Clifford  vows  to  fight  in  thy  defense  : 
May  that  ground  gape,  and  swallow  me  alive. 
Where  I  shall  kneel  to  him  that  slew  my  father! 

K.  Hen.  O  Clifford,  how  thy  words  revive  my  heart  I 

York.  Henry  of  Lancaster,  resign  thy  crown. — 
What  mutter  you,  or  what  conspire  you,  lords? 

IVar.  Do  right  unto  this  princely  Duke  of  York; 
Or  I  will  fill  the  house  with  armed  men. 
And  o'er  the  chair  of  state,  where  now  he  sits, 
Write  up  his  title  with  usurping  blood. 

\He  stamps,  and  the  soldiers  shoru  themselves. 

K.  Hen.  Mv  Lord  of  Warwick,  hear  me  but  one  word  : — 
Let  me  for  this  my  life-time  reign  as  king. 

York.  Confirm  the  crown  to  me  and  to  mine  heirs. 
And  thou  shalt  reign  in  quiet  while  thou  liv'st. 

A'.  Hen.   I  am  content :  Richard  Plantagenet, 
Enjoy  the  kingdom  after  my  decease. 

Clif.  What  wrong  is  this  unto  the  prince  your  son! 

War.  What  good  is  this  to  England  and  himself! 

West.  Base,  fearful,  and  despairing  Henry  ! 

Clif.   How  hast  thou  injur'd  both  thyself  .md  us! 

West.  I  cannot  stay  to  hear  these  articles. 

North.  Nor  \. 

Clif.  Come,  cousin,  let  us  tell  the  queen  these  news. 

West.  Farewell,  faint-hearted  and  degenerate  king. 
In  whose  cold  blood  no  spark  of  honor  bides. 

North.  Be  thou  a  prey  unto  the  house  of  York, 
(\nd  die  in  bands,  for  this  unmanly  deed  ! 

Clif.  In  dreadful  war  mayst  thou  be  overcome, 

t.  240.  [k  H.vr.i 


Ac//.]  KING  HEKRY  VI.  [Scene  I. 

Or  live  in  peace,  abandon'd  and  despis'd  ! 
[Exeunt  NoythumberUuid,  CUffurd,  and  Westmoreland, 
War.  Turn  this  \va\',  Henry,  and  regard  tlieni  not. 
Exe.  They  seek  revenge,  and  therefore  will  not  yield. 
K.  Hen.  Ah,  Exeter  ! 

War.  Why  should  you  sigh,  my  lord.'' 

K.  Hen.  Not  for  myself.  Lord  Warwick,  but  my  son. 
Whom  I  unnaturally  shall  disinherit. 
But,  be  it  as  it  may :  —  1  here  entail 
The  crown  to  thee,  and  to  thine  heirs  forever; 
Conditionallv,  that  here  thou  take  an  oath 
To  cease  this  civil  war,  and,  whilst  I  live, 
To  honor  me  as  thy  king  and  sovereign, 
And  neither  by  treason  nor  hostility 
To  seek  to  put  me  down,  and  reign  thyself. 

York.  This  oath  I  willingly  take,  and  will  perform. 

{Coining  from  the  throne. 
War.  Long  live  King  Henry  !  —  Plantagenet,  embrace 

him. 
K.  Hen.  And   long  live  thou,  and   these  thy  forward 

sons  ! 
York.  Now  York  and  Lancaster  are  reconcil'd. 
Exe.  Accurs'd  be  he  that  seeks  to  make  them  foes: 

[Sennet.      The  Lords  come  forward. 
York.  Farewell,  my  gracious  lord  ;  I'll  to  my  castle. 
War.  And  I'll  keep  London  with  my  soldiers. 
Norf.  And  I  to  Norfolk  with  my  followers. 
Mont.  And  I  unto  the  sea,  from  whence  I  came. 

[Exeunt  York  and  his  Sons,   Warwick,  A'orfolk, 
Alojitague,  Soldiers,  and  Attendants. 
K.  Hen.  And  I,  with  grief  and  sorrow,  to  the  court. 
Exe.  Here  comes  the  queen,  whose  looks  bewray  her 
anger : 
I'll  steal  away.  [Going, 

K.  Hen.  Exeter,  so  will  I.  [Going, 

Enter  Queen  Margaret  and  the  Prince  of  Wales. 

Q.  Mar.  Nay,  go  not  from  me  ;  I  will  follow  thee. 

K.  Hoi.   Be  patient,  gentle  queen,  and  I  will  stay. 

Q.  Mar.  Who  can  be  patient  in  such  extremes? 
Ah,  wretched  man  !  would  I  had  died  a  maid, 
And  never  seen  thee,  never  borne  thee  son. 
Seeing  thou  hast  prov'd  so  unnatural  a  father! 

K.H.VI.Q  1  I.  241. 


4  <://.!  THE   THIRD  PART  OF  \Scen»  t. 

Hath  he  deserv'd  to  lose  his  l>irth!-ight  thus? 

Hadst  thou  but  lov'd  him  half  so  well  as  I, 

Or  felt  that  pain  which  I  did  for  him  once, 

Or  nourish'd  him  as  I  did  with  my  blood. 

Thou  wouldst  hav'c  left  thy  dearest  heart-blood  there, 

Rather  than  have  made  that  savage  duke  thine  heir. 

And  disinherited  thine  only  son. 

Prince.  Father,  you  cannot  disinherit  me: 
If  you  be  king,  why  should  not  I  succeed  ? 

K.  Hen.  Pardon   me,  Margaret ;  —  pardon  me,  sweet 
son  :  — 
The  Earl  of  Warwick  and  the  duke  enforc'd  me. 

Q.  Mar.  Enforc'd  thee  !    art    thou  king,  and  wilt    be 
forc'd  ? 
I  shame  to  hear  thee  speak.     Ah,  timorous  wretch ! 
Thou  hast  undone  thyself,  thy  son,  and  me  ; 
And  given  unto  the  house  of  York  such  head, 
As  thou  shalt  reign  but  by  their  sufferance. 
T'  entail  him  and  his  heirs  unto  the  crown, 
What  is  it,  but  to  make  thy  sepulcher, 
And  creep  into  it  far  before  thy  time  } 
Warwick  is  chancellor,  and  the  lord  of  Calais  ; 
Stern  Falconbridge  commands  the  narrow  seas ; 
The  duke  is  made  protector  of  the  realm  ; 
And  yet  shalt  thou  be  safe  }   such  safety  finds 
The  trembling  lamb  environed  with  wolves. 
Had  I  been  there,  which  am  a  silly  woman. 
The  soldiers  should  have  toss'd  me  on  their  pikes 
Before  I  woul  '  have  granted  to  that  act. 
But  thou  preferr'st  thy  life  before  thine  honor: 
And  seeing  thou  dost,  I  here  divorce  myself 
Both  from  thy  table,  Henry,  and  thy  bed, 
Until  that  act  of  parliament  be  repeal'd, 
Whereby  my  son  is  disinherited. 
The  northern  lords  that  have  forsworn  thy  colors 
Will  follow  mine,  if  once  they  see  them  spread  ; 
And  spread  they  shall  be, —  to  thy  foul  disgrace. 
And  utter  ruin  of  the  house  of  York. 
Thus  do  I  leave  thee. —  Come,  son,  let's  away; 
Our  army's  ready;  come,  we'll  after  them. 

K.  Hen.  Stay,  gentle  Margaret,  and  hear  me  speak. 

Q.  Mar.  Thou  hast  spoke  too  much  already  •,  get  thee 
gone. 

1.  S42.  [k.h.vi.io. 


Act/.]  IC/XG  HEXRV  V/.  [Scene  rt. 

K.Hen,  Gentle  son  Edward,  thou  wilt  stay  with  me? 

Q.  Mar.  Ay,  to  be  nmrder'd  by  his  enemies. 

Prince.  When  1  return  with  victory  from  the  field, 
I'll  see  your  grace:  till  then  I'll  follow  her. 

Q.  Mar.  Come,  son,  away;  we  may  not  linger  thus. 

[Exeunt  Qitccii  Maigarct  and  the  Prince, 

K.  Hen.  Poor  queen  !  how  love  to  me  and  to  her  son 
Hath  made  her  break  out  into  terms  of  rage  ! 
Reveng'd  may  she  be  on  that  hateful  duke, 
Whose  haughty  spirit,  winged  with  desire, 
Will  cost  my  crown,  and  like  an  empty  eagle 
Tire  on  the  flesh  of  me  and  of  my  son  ! 
The  loss  of  those  three  lords  torments  my  heart: 
I'll  write  unto  them,  and  entreat  them  fair:  — 
Come,  cousin,  you  shall  be  the  messenger. 

Exe.  And  I,  I  hope,  shall  reconcile  them  all.    [Exeunt, 

Scene  II.     A  room  in  Sandal  Castle,  near  Wakefield^ 
in    Yorkshire. 

Enter  Edward,  Richard,  and  M(3NTague. 

Rich.  Brother,  though  I  be  youngest,  give  me  leave. 

Edn>.  No,  I  can  better  play  the  orator. 

Mo7it.  But  I  have  reasons  strong  and  forcible. 
Enter  YORK. 

York.  Why,  how  now.  sons  and  brother  !  at  a  strife? 
What  is  your  quarrel  }  how  began  it  first  } 

Edw.  No  quarrel,  but  a  slight  contention. 

York.  About  what  } 

Rich.  About  that  which  concerns  your  grace  and  us, — 
The  crown  of  England,  fatht-r,  which  is  )Ours. 

York.  Mine,  bov  ?  not  till  King  Henry  be  dead. 

Rich.  Your  right  depends  not  on  his  life  or  death. 

Edw.  Now  you  are  heir,  therefore  enjoy  it  now : 
By  giving  the  house  of  Lancaster  leave  to  breathe, 
It  will  outrun  you,  father,  in  the  end. 

York.  I  took  an  oath  that  he  should  quietly  reign. 

Edw.  But,  for  a  kingdom,  an  oath  may  be  broken : 
I'd  break  a  thousand  oaths  to  reign  one  year. 

Rich.  No  ;  God  forbid  your  grace  should  be  forsworn. 

York.  I  shall  be,  if  I  claim  by  open  war. 

Rich.  I'll  prove  the  contrary,  if  you'll  hear  me  speak. 

York.  Thou  canst  not,  son;  it  is  impossible. 

K.H.VI.H.1  I.  Ma. 


Act/.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  {Scehe It 

Rich.  An  oath  is  of  no  moment,  being  not  took 
Before  a  true  and  lawful  magistrate, 
That  hath  authority  o'er  him  that  swears  : 
Henry  had  none,  but  did  usurp  the  place ; 
Then,  seeing  'twas  he  that  made  you  to  depose. 
Your  oath,  my  lord,  is  vain  and  frivolous. 
Therefore,  to  arms.     And,  father,  do  but  think 
How  sweet  a  thing  it  is  to  wear  a  crown  ; 
Within  whose  circuit  is  Elysium, 
And  all  that  poets  feign  of  bliss  and  joy. 
Why  do  we  linger  thus.''  I  cannot  rest 
Until  the  white  rose  that  I  wear  be  dy'd 
Even  in  the  lukewarm  blood  of  Henry's  heart. 

York.  Richard,  enough  ;  I  will  be  king,  or  die.— 
Brother,  thou  shalt  to  London  presently, 
And  whet-on  Warwick  to  this  enterprise. — 
Thou,  Richard,  shalt  unto  the  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
And  tell  him  privily  of  our  intent. — 
You,  Edward,  shall  unto  my  Lord  of  Cobham, 
With  whom  the  Kentishmen  will  willingly  rise : 
In  them  I  trust ;   for  they  are  soldiers. 
Witty,  courteous,  liberal,  full  of  spirit. — 
While  you  are  thus  employ'd,  what  resteth  more 
But  that  I  seek  occasion  how  to  rise. 
And  yet  the  king  not  privy  to  my  drift, 
Nor  any  of  the  house  of  Lancaster  ? 

Ettter  a  Messenger. 

But,   stay:     what    news?  —  Why  com'st    thou    in  such 

post  ? 
Mess.    The   queen    with    all    the    northern    earls   and 

lords 
Intend  here  to  besiege  you  in  your  castle : 
She  is  hard  by  with  twenty  thousand  men  ; 
And  therefore  fortify  your  hold,  my  lord. 

York.  Ay,  with  the  sword.    What !    think'st  thou  that 

we  fear  them  .'  — 
Edward  and  Richard,  you  shall  stay  with  me;  — 
My  brother  Montague  shall  post  to  London  : 
Let  noble  Warwick,  Cobham,  and  the  rest. 
Whom  we  have  left  protectors  of  the  king, 
With  powerful  policv  strengthen  themselves. 
And  trust  not  simple  Henry  nor  his  oaths. 

I.  344.  [k.h.vlis. 


/!ct/.]  KING  HENRY  Vt.  [Sftne  lit. 

Mon/.  Brother,  I  go  ;   I'll  win  them,  fear  it  not  : 
And  thus  most  humbly  I  do  take  my  leave. 

j£"«/6v  Sir  John  (?//f/ Sir  Hugh  Mortimer. 

York.  Sir  John  and  Sir  Hugh  Mortimer,  mine  uncles  ! 
You're  come  to  .Sandal  in  a  happN  hour  ; 
The  army  of  tiie  queen  mean  to  })esiege  us. 

Sirjoh)!.  She    shall    not  need,  we'll  meet  her  in  the 
held. 

York.  What   with  five  thousand  men.'' 

Rich.   Ay,  with  five  hundred,  father,  for  a  need  : 
A  woman's  general;    what  should   we  fear.? 

[.4  inarch  afar  off. 

EdiLi.  I  hear  their  drums  :  let's  set  our  men  in  order, 
And  issue  forth,  and  bid  them  battle  straight. 

Y'ork.  Five   men   to    twenty !— though    the    odds  be 
great, 
I  doubt  not,  uncle,  of  our  victory. 
Many  a  battle  have  I  won  in  France, 
Whenas  the  enemy  hath  been  ten  to  one  : 
Why  should  I  not  now  have  the  like  success  ?     ^Exeunt. 

Scene  HI.     Plai)is  near  Sandal  CasfU. 
Alarums.     Ente;    RUTLAND  a)id  his  Tutor. 
Rut.  Ah,  whither  shall  I  fly  to  scape  their  hands? 
Ah,  tutor,  look  where  bloody  Clifford  comes! 

Enter  Clifford  and  Soldiers. 

Clif.  Chaplain,  away  !  thy  priesthood  saves  thy  life. 
As  for  the  brat  of  this  accursed  duke, 
Whose  father  slew  my  father, —  he  shall  die. 

Tut.  And  I,  my  lord,  will  bear  him  company. 

C/if.  Soldiers,  away  with  him  ! 

Tut.  Ah,  Clifford,  murder  not  this  innocent  child, 
Lest  thou  be  hated  both  of  God  and  niai  I 

[Exit,forcci/  off  by  Soldiers. 

Clif.  How  now  !  is  he  dead  already .''  or  is't  fear 
That  makes  him  close  his  eves  ?  —  I'll  open  them. 

Rut.  So  looks  the  pent-up  lion  o'er  the  wretch 
That  trembles  under  his  devouring  paws  ; 
And  so  he  walks,  insulting  o'er  his  prey. 
And  so  he  comes,  to  rend  his  limbs  asunder. — 
Ah,  gentle  Clifford,  kill  me  with  thy  sword, 

K.H.VI.13.I  L  245. 


Act/.]  THE   THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene /V. 

And  not  with  such  a  cruel  threatening  look  ! 
Sweet  Clifford,  hear  me  speak  before  I  die !  — 
I  am  too  mean  a  subject  for  thy  wrath  : 
Be  thou  reveng'd  on  men,  and  let  me  live. 

C///".  In  vain  thou  speak'st,  poor  boy  ;  my  father's  blood, 
Hath  stopp'd  the  passage  where  thy  words  should  enter. 

/?«/.  Then  let  my  father's  blood  open't  again  : 
He  is  a  man,  and,  Clifford,  cope  with  him. 

C/i/.  Had  I  thy  brethren  here,  their  lives  and  thine 
Were  not  revenge  sufficient  for  me ; 
No,  if  I  digg'd  up  thy  forefathers'  graves. 
And  hung  their  rotten  coffins  up  in  chains. 
It  could  not  slake  mine  ire  nor  ease  my  heart. 
The  sight  of  any  of  the  house  of  York 
Is  as  a  fury  to  torment  my  soul  ; 
And  till  I  root  out  their  accursed  line, 
And  leave  not  one  alive,  I  live  in  hell. 
Therefore  —  {Lifting  his  hand. 

Rut.  O,  let  me  pray  before  I  take  my  death  !  — 
To  thee  I  pray  ;  sweet  Clifford,  pity  me  ! 

Clif.  Such  pity  as  my  rapier's  point  affords. 

Rut.  I  never  did  thee  harm  :  why  wilt  thou  slay  me  ? 

Clif.  Thy  father  hath. 

Rut.  But  'twas  ere  I  was  born. 

Thou  hast  one  son, —  for  his  sake  pity  me  ; 
Lest  in  revenge  thereof, —  sith  God  is  just,— 
He  be  as  miserably  slain  as  I. 
Ah,  let  me  live  in  prison  all  my  days; 
And  when  I  give  occasion  of  offense, 
Then  let  me  die,  for  now  thou  hast  no  cause ! 

Clif.  No  cause  ! 
Thy  father  slew  my  father  ;  therefore,  die.       \Stabs  him. 

Rut.  Di  faciant,  laudis  suinma  sit  ista  tu(P  !      \^Dies. 

Clif.  Plantagenet  !  I  come,  Plantagenet ! 
And  this  thy  son's  blood  cleaving  to  my  blade 
Shall  rust  upon  my  weapon,  till  thy  blood, 
Congeal'd  with  this,  do  make  me  wipe  off  both.       \E.xit. 

Scene  IV.     Another  part  of  the   plains  near  Sandal 
Castle. 
Alarums.     Enter  YoRK. 
York.  The  army  of  the  queen  hath  got  the  field  : 
My  uncles  both  are  slain  in  rescuing  me ; 

T.  «46.  [k.h.vi.14. 


Act/.]  KING  HENRY  VI.  \Scen,      ?' 

And  all  m}'  followers  to  the  eager  foe 

Turn  back,  and  fly.  like  ships  before  the  wind, 

Or  lambs  pursu'd  In  hunger-starved  wolves. 

My  sons, —  God  knows  what  hath  bechanced  them  ; 

But  this  I  know,  they  have  deinean'd  themselves 

Like  men  born  to  renown  by  life  or  death. 

Three  times  did  Richard  make  a  lane  to  me, 

And  thrice  cried,  "Courage,  father!  fight  it  out  I" 

And  full  as  oft  came  Edward  to  my  side, 

With  purple  falchion,  painted  to  the  hilt 

In  blood  of  those  that  had  encounter'd  him: 

And  when  the  hardiest  warriors  did  retire, 

Richard  cried,  "Charge  !  and  give  no  foot  of  ground  I" 

And  cried,  "  A  crown,  or  else  a  glorious  tomb  ! 

A  scepter,  or  an  earthly  se|Hdcher  !  " 

With  this,  we  charg'd  again  :  but,  out,  alas! 

We  bodg'd  again  ;  as  I  have  seen  a  swan 

With  bootless  labor  swim  against  the  tide. 

And  spend  her  strength  with  over-matching  waves. 

\A  sJiort  alarum  ivithin. 
Ah,  hark  !  the  fatal  followers  do  pursue ; 
And  I  am  faint,  and  cannot  fly  their  fury  . 
And  were  I  strong,  I  would  not  shun  their  fury  : 
The  sands  are  number'd  that  make  up  mv  life  ; 
Here  must  I  stay,  and  here  my  life  must  end. 

Enter  Queen  Margaret,  Clifford,   Northumber- 
land, and  Soldiers. 

Come,  bloody  Clifford, —  rough  Northumberland, — 
I  dare  your  quenchless  fury  to  more  rage : 
I  am  your  butt,  and  I  abide  your  shot. 

XortJt.  \'ield  to  our  mercy,  proud  Flantagenet. 

Clif.  Ay,  to  such  mercy  as  his  ruthless  arm. 
With  downriglit  pavment,  show'd  unto  m\  father. 
Now  Phaethon  hath  tumbled  from  his  car, 
And  made  an  evening  at  the  noontide  prick. 

York.  My  a.shes.  as  the  phnenix',  may  bring  forth 
A  bird  that  will  revenge  upon  )ou  all ; 
And  in  that  hope  I  throw  mine  eyes  to  heaven. 
Scorning  whate'er  you  can  afflict  me  with. 
Why  come  you  not  .^  what  I  multitudes,  and  fear? 

Clif.  So  cowards  fight  when  they  can  fly  no  further; 
So  doves  do  peck  the  falcon's  piercing  talons; 

K.H.VT.T5.]  L  247. 


Ac//.]  THE   THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene  If- 

So  desperate  thieves,  all  hopeless  of  their  lives. 
Breathe  out  invectives  'gainst  the  officers. 

Vo/-k.  O  Clifford,  but  bethink  thee  once  again, 
And  in  thy  thought  o'er-run  my  former  time  ; 
And,  if  thou  canst  for  blushing,  view  this  face, 
And  bite  thy  tongue,  that  slanders  him  with  cowardice 
Whose  frown  hath  made  thee  faint  and  fly  ere  this! 

Ciif.  I  will  not  bandy  with  thee  word  for  word, 
But  buckle  with  thee  blows,  twice  two  for  one.     [Draws. 

Q.  Mar.  Hold,  valiant  Clifford  !  for  a  thousand  causes 
I  would  prolong  awhile  the  traitor's  life. — 
Wrath  makes  him  deaf :  —  speak  thou,  Northumberland. 

North.  Hold,  Clifford  !  do  not  honor  him  so  much 
To  prick  thy  finger,  though  to  wound  his  heart  : 
What  valor  were  it,  when  a  cur  doth  grin. 
For  one  to  thrust  his  hand  between  his  teeth, 
When  he  might  spurn  him  with  his  foot  away? 
It  is  war's  prize  to  take  all  vantages  ; 
And  ten  to  one  is  no  impeach  of  valor. 

[  They  lay  hands  on   York,  ivho  struggles, 

Clif.  Ay,  ay,  so  strives  the  woodcock  with  the  gin. 

North.  So  doth  the  cony  struggle  in  the  net. 

[  York  is  taken  prisoner. 

York.  So  triumph  thieves  upon  their  conquer'd  booty; 
So  true  men  yield,  with  robbers  so  o'ermatch'd. 

North.  What  would  your  grace  have  done  unto   hun 
now  .'' 

Q.  Mar.   Brave  warriors,    Clifford    and    Northumber- 
land, 
Come,  make  him  stand  upon  this  molehill  here. 
That  raught  at  mountains  with  outstretched  arms, 
Yet  parted  but  the  shadow  with  his  hand. — 
What !  was  it  you  that  would  be  England's  king? 
Was't  you  that  revel'd  in  our  parliament, 
And  made  a  preachment  of  your  high  descent  ? 
Where  are  your  mess  of  sons  to  back  you  now  ? 
The  wanton  Edward,  and  the  lusty  George  ? 
And  where's  that  valiant  crook-back  prodigy, 
Dicky  your  boy,  that  with  his  grumbling  voice 
Was  wont  to  cheer  his  dad  in  mutinies  ? 
Or,  with  the  rest,  where  is  your  darling  Rutland? 
Look,  York  :  I  stain'd  this  n;)i)kin  with  the  blood 
That  valiant  Clifford,  with  his  rapier's  point, 

I.   248.  fK.R.VI.lft. 


Act  /.I  KING  HE.K!iV  rl.  [Scene  ly. 

Made  issue  from  the  bosom  of  the  boy ; 

And  if  thine  eyes  can  water  for  his  death, 

1  give  thee  this  to  dry  thy  cheeks  witha!. 

Alas,  poor  York  !  but  that  I  hate  thee  deadly, 

I  should  lament  thy  miserable  state. 

1  prithee,  grieve,  to  make  me  merry,  York  ; 

Stamp,  rave,  and  fret,  that  I  may  sing  and  dance. 

What !    hath  thy  tier)-  heart  so  parch'd  thine  entrails 

That  not  a  tear  can  fall  for  Rutland's  death  ? 

Why  art  thou  patient,  man  }    thou  shouldst  be  mad ; 

And  I,  to  make  thee  mad,  do  mock  thee  thus. 

Thou  wouldst  be  fee'd,  I  see,  to  make  me  sport : 

York  cannot  speak,  unless  he  wear  a  crown. — 

A  crown  for  York  !  —  and,  lords,  bow  low  to  him  :  — 

Hold  you  his  hands,  whilst  I  do  set  it  on. — 

[Piitf/>!i;  a  paper  crcncfi  on  his  head. 
Ay,  marry,  sir,  now  looks  he  like  a  king! 
Ay,  this  is  he  that  took  King  Henry's  chair; 
And  this  is  he  was  his  adopted  heir. — 
But  how  is  it  that  great  Plantagenet 
Iscrown'd  so  soon,  and  broke  his  solemn  oath? 
As  I  bethink  me,  you  should  not  be  king 
Till  our  King  Henry  had  shook  hands  with  death. 
And  will  you  pale  your  head  in  Henry's  glory. 
And  rob  his  temples  of  the  diadem, 
Now  in  his  life,  against  your  holy  oath? 
O,  'tis  a  fault  too-too  unpardonable  !  — 
Off  with  the  crown,  and,  with  the  crown,  his  head; 
And,  whilst  we  breathe,  take  time  to  do  him  dead. 

Cltf.  That  is  my  office,  for  mv  father's  sake. 

Q.  Afar.   Nay,  stay  ;  let's  hear  the  orisons  he  makes. 

York.  She-wolf  of  France,  but  worse  than  wolves  of 
France, 
Whose  tongue  more  poisons  than  the  adder's  tooth  I 
How  ill-beseeming  is  it  in  thy  se.x 
To  triumph,  like  an  Amazonian  trull, 
Upon  their  woes  whom  fortune  cajitivates  ! 
But  that  thy  face  is,  visard-like,  unchanging, 
Made  impudent  with  use  of  evil  deeds, 
I  would  assay,  proud  queen,  to  make  thee  blush  : 
To  tell  thee  whence  thou  ram'st,  of  whom  deriv'd, 
Were  shame  enough  to  shame  thee,  wert  thou  not  shame- 
less. 

K.H.V1.17.]  1.  249. 


Ac/ r]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene /l^. 

Thy  father  bears  the  type  of  King  of  Naples, 

Of  both  the  Sicils  and  Jerusalem  ; 

Yet  not  so  wealthy  as  an  English  yeoman. 

Hath  that  poor  monarch  taught  thee  to  insult  ? 

It  needs  not,  nor  it  boots  thee  not,  proud  queen  ; 

Unless  the  adage  must  be  verified, — 

That  beggars  mounted  run  their  horse'  to  death. 

'Tis  beauty  that  doth  oft  make  women  proud ; 

But,  God  he  knows,  thy  share  thereof  is  small : 

'Tis  virtue  that  doth  make  them  most  admir'd  ; 

The  contrary  doth  m;ike  thee  wonder'd  at  : 

'Tis  government  that  makes  them  seem  divine; 

The  want  thereof  makes  thee  abominable  : 

Thou  art  as  opposite  to  every  good 

As  the  Antipodes  are  unto  us, 

Or  as  the  south  to  the  septentrion. 

O  tiger's  heart  wrapp'd  in  a  woman's  hide, 

How  couldst  thou  drain  the  life-blood  of  the  child. 

To  bid  the  father  wipe  his  eyes  withal. 

And  yet  be  seen  to  bear  a  woman's  face? 

Women  are  soft,  mild,  pitiful,  and  flexible ; 

Thou  stern,  obdurate,  Hinty,  rough,  remorseless. 

Bidd'st  thou  me  rage  ?  why,  now  thou  hast  thy  wish  ; 

Wouldst  have  me  weep  .'*  why,  now  thou  hast  thy  will  •. 

For  raging  wind  blows  up  incessant  showers, 

And  when  the  rage  allays,  the  rain  begins. 

These  tears  are  my  sweet  Rutland's  obsequies; 

And  every  drop  cries  vengeance  for  his  death, 

'Gainst   thee,  fell   Clifford,  and  thee,  false  Frenchwoman. 

North.   Beshrew  me,  but  his  passions  move  me  so 
That  hardly  can  I  check  my  eyes  from  tears. 

York.   That  face  of  his  the  hungry  cannibals 
Would  not   have  touch 'd,  would   not    have  stain'd    with 

blood  : 
But  you  are  more  inhuman,  more  inexorable, — 
O,  ten  times  more, —  than  tigers  of  Hyrcania. 
See,  ruthless  queen,  a  hapless  father's  tears: 
This  cloth  thou  dipp'dst  in  blood  of  my  sweet  boy, 
And  1  with  tears  do  wash  the  blood  away. 
Keep  thou  the  napkin,  and  go  boast  of  this: 

{Ghiing  hack  the  handkerchief. 
And,  if  thou  tell'st  the  heavy  story  right. 
Upon  my  soul,  the  hearers  will  shed  tears ; 

1. 250.  [k.h.vi.iS. 


A  ct  jr.']  KIXO  HEXK  r  r/.  [Scene  I. 

Yea,  even  my  fucs  will  shed  fast-falling  tears. 

And  say,   "  Alas,  it  was  a  pitrous  deed  !  "  ■ — 

There,  take  the  crown,  and,  with  the  crown,  my  curse; 

I  Gh'ing  back  the  paper  crmvn. 
And  in  thy  need  such  comfort  come  to  thee 
As  now  I  reap  at  thy  too  cruel  hand  !  — 
Hard-hearted  Cliffortl,  take  me  from  the  world  : 
My  soul  to  heaven,  my  blood  rpon  your  heads  ! 

North.  Had  he  been  slaughter-man  to  all  my  kin, 
I  should  not  for  my  life  but  \\eep  with  him. 
To  see  how  inly  sorrow  gripes  his  soul. 

O.  Mar.  What,  weeping-ripe,  my  Lord  Northumber- 
land ? 
Think  but  upon  the  wrong  he  did  us  all. 
And  that  will  quickly  dry  thy  melting  tears. 

Clif.  Here's  for  my  oath,  here's  for  my  father's  death. 

^Stabbing  htm. 
Q.  Mar.  And  here's  to  right  our  gtntle-hearted   king. 

I  Stabbing-  him. 
York.  Open  thy  gate  of  mercy,  gracious  God  ! 
My  soul  flies  through  these  wounds  to  seek  out  thee. 

[D/es. 
Q.  Mar.  Off  with  his  head,  and  set   it   on  York  gates; 
So  York  may  overlook  the  town  of  York. 

{Flourish.     Exeunt. 

ACT  \\. 

Scene    I.      A  plain    near  Mortimer  s  Cross  in  Here- 
fordshire. 

Drums,     Enter   Edward    a)id    Richard,  with   their 
Forces,  marching. 

Edw.  I  wonder  how  our  princely  father  scap'd, 
Or  whether  he  be  scap'd  away  or  no 
From  Clifford's  and  Northumberland's  pursuit  : 
Had  he  been  ta'en,  we  should   have  heard  the  news; 
Had  he  been  slain,  we  should  ha\e   heard  the  news  ; 
Or  had  he  scap'd, methinks  we  should  have  heard 
The  happy  tidings  of   his  good  escape.- — 
How  fares  my  brother  }  why  is  he  so  sad  ? 

Rich.   I  cannot  jov,  until  I  be  resolv'd 
Where  our  right  vali.Tnt  father  is  become. 
I  saw  him  in  the  battle  range  about  ; 
K.H.V1.19.]  1. 851. 


h( //.]  THE  THIRD  PARI  OF  {Scetu-  r. 

And  watched  him  how  he  singled  Clifford  forth. 
Methought  he  bore  him  in  the  thickest  troop 
As  doth  a  lion  in  a  herd  of  neat ; 
Or  as  a  bear,  encompass'd  round  with  dogs, — 
Who  having  pinch  d  a  few,  and  made  them  cry. 
The  rest  stand  all  aloof,  and  bark  at  him. 
So  far'd  our  father  with  his  enemies  ; 
So  fled  his  enemies  my  warlike  father: 
Methinks,  'tis  prize  enough  to  be  his  son. — 
See  how  the  morning  opes  her  golden  gates. 
And  takes  her  farewell  of  the  glorious  sun  ! 
How  well  resembles  it  the  prime  of  youth. 
Trimm'd  like  ayounker  prancing  to  his  love  ! 

Edw.  Dazzle  mine  eyes,  or  do  I  see  three  suns? 

Ric/i.  Three  glorious  suns,  each  one  a  perfect  sun; 
Not  separated  with  the  racking  clouds. 
But  severd  in  a  pale  clear-shining  sky. 
See,  see!  they  join,  embrace,  and  seem  to  kiss. 
As  if  they  vow'd  some  league  inviolable  : 
Now  are  they  but  one  lamp,  one  light,  one  sun. 
In  this  the  heaven  figures  some  event. 

Echa.  'Tis  wondrous  strange,  the  like  yet  never  heard  of. 
I  think  it  cites  us,  brother,  to  the  field, — 
That  we,  the  sons  of  brave  Plantagenet, 
Each  one  already  blazing  by  our  meeds. 
Should,  notwithstanding,  join  our  lights  together, 
And  over-shine  the  earth,  as  this  the  world. 
Whate'er  it  bodes,  henceforward  will  I  bear 
Upon  my  target  three  fair-shining  suns. 

Rich.  Nay,  bear  three  daughters:  —  by  your  leave  I 
speak  it, 
You  love  the  breeder  better  than  the  male. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

But  what  art  thou,  whose  heavy  looks  foretell 
Some  dreadful  story  hanging  on  thy  tongue  } 

Mess.  Ah,  one  that  was  a  woeful  looker-on 
Whenas  the  noble  Duke  of  York  was  slain. 
Your  princely  father  and  my  loving  lord  ! 

Edtu.  O,  speak  no  more  !  for  I  have  heard  too  much. 

Rich.  Say  how  he  died,  for  I  will  hear  it  all. 

Mess.  Environed  he  was  with  many  foes  ; 
And  stood  against  them  as  the  hope  of  Troy 

I.  »5a.  [K.H.vi.ao. 


ActII?i  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  I. 

Against  the  Greeks  that  would  have  enter'd  Troy. 
But  Hercules  himself  must  yield  to  odds ; 
And  many  strokes.  ihouL^h  with  a  little  ax. 
Hew  down  and  fell  the  hardest-timber'd  oak. 
By  many  hands  your  father  was  subdu'd  ; 
But  only  slaughter'd  by  the  ireful  aim 
Of  unrelenting  Clifford  and  the  queen, 
Who  crown'd  the  gracious  duke  in  high  des]jite ; 
Laugh'd  in  his  face  ;  and  when  with  grief  he  wept, 
The  ruthless  queen  gave  him  to  dry  his  cheeks 
A  napkin  steeped  in  the  harmless  blood 
Of  sweet  young  Rutland,  Ijy  rough  Clifford  slain: 
And  after  many  scorns,  manv  foul  taunts, 
They  took  his  head,  and  on  the  gates  of  York 
They  set  the  same;  and  there  it  doth  remain, 
The  saddest  spectacle  that  e'er  I  view'd. 

Edw.  Sweet  Duke  of  York,  our  prop  to  lean  upon, 
Now  thou  art  gone,  we  have  no  staff,  no  stay  !  — 
O  Clifford,  boisterous  Clifford,  thou  hast  slain 
The  flower  of  Euro|)e  for  his  chivalry  ; 
And  treacherously  hast  thou  vanquish'd  him, 
For  hand  to  hand  he  would  have  vanquish'd  thee !  — 
Now  my  soul's  palace  is  become  a  prison  : 
Ah,  would  she  break  from  hence,  that  this  my  body 
Might  in  the  ground  be  closed  up  in  rest  ! 
For  never  henceforth  shall  I  joy  again, 
Never,  O  never,  shall  I  see  more  joy  ! 

Rich.  I  cannot  weep  ;  for  all  my  body's  moisture 
Scarce  serves  to  quench  my  furnace-burning  heart : 
Nor  can  my  tongue  unload  my  heart's  great  burden; 
For  selfsame  wind  that  I  should  speak  withal 
Is  kindling  coals  that  fire  all  my  breast, 
And  burn  me  up  with  flames  that  tears  would  quench. 
To  weep  is  to  make  less  the  depth  of  grief  : 
Tears,  then,  for  babes  ;  blows  and  revenge  for  me  !  — 
Richard,  1  bear  thy  name;   I'll  venge  thy  death, 
Or  die  renowned  by  attempting  it. 

Eil'tx'.  His  name  that  valiant  duke  hath  left  with  thee; 
His  dukedom  and  his  chair  with  me  is  left. 

RicJi.  Nay,  if  thou  be  that  princely  eagle's  bird. 
Show  thy  descent  by  gazing  'gainst  the  sun  : 
For  chair  and  dukedom,  throne  and  kingdom  say; 
Either  that  is  thine,  or  else  thou  wert  not  his. 

K.H.vi.ai.j  1.  253. 


.4r///.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  \SceneI. 

March.  Enter  WARWICK  ^r/z^/ MONTAGUE,  with  Forces. 
War.  How,  now,  fair  lords  I  What  fare?   what  news 

abroad  ? 
Rich.  Great  Lord  of  Warwick,  if  we  should  recount 
Our  baleful  news,  and  at  each  word's  deliverance 
Stab  poniards  in  our  flesh  till  all  were  told, 
The  words  would  add  more  anguish  than  the  wounds, 

0  valiant  lord,  the  Duke  of  York  is  slain  ! 

Edw.  O,  Warwick,  Warwick  !  that  Plantagenet, 
Which  held  thee  dearly  as  his  soul's  redemption, 
Is  by  the  stern  Lord  Clifford  done  to  death. 

War.  Ten  days  ago  I  drown'd  these  news  in  tears  ; 
And  now,  to  add  more  measure  to  your  woes, 

1  come  to  tell  vou  things  sith  then  befall'n. 
After  the  bloody  fray  at  Wakefield  fought. 
Where  your  brave  father  breath 'd  his  latest  gasp, 
Tidings,  as  swiftly  as  the  posts  could  run. 
Were  brought  me  of  your  loss  and  his  depart. 

I,  then  in  London,  keeper  of  the  king, 

Muster'd  my  soldiers,  gather'd  fiocks  of  friends, 

And  very  well  appointed,  as  I  thought, 

March'd  toward  Saint  Alban's  t'  intercept  the  queen, 

Bearing  the  king  in  my  behalf  along  ; 

For  by  my  scouts  I  was  advertised 

That  she  was  coming  with  a  full  intent 

To  dash  bur  late  decree  in  parliament 

Touching  King  Henry's  oath  and  your  succession. 

Short  tale  to  make, —  we  at  Saint  Alban's  met, 

Our  battles  join'd,  and  both  sides  fiercely  fought : 

But  whether  'twas  the  coldness  of  the  king. 

Who  look'd  full  gently  on  his  warlike  queen. 

That  robb'd  my  soldiers  of  their  heated  spleen  ; 

Or  whether  'twas  report  of  her  success ; 

Or  more  than  common  fear  of  Clifford's  rigor. 

Who  thunders  to  his  captives,  "  Blood  and  death," 

I  cannot  judge  :  but,  to  conclude  with  truth. 

Their  weapons  like  to  lightning  came  and  went ; 

Our  soldiers' — like  the  night-owl's  lazy  flight. 

Or  like  an  idle  thrasher  with  a  flail  — 

Fell  gently  down,  as  if  they  struck  their  friends. 

I  cheer'd  them  up  with  justice  of  our  cause, 

With  promise  of  high  pay  and  great  rewards  : 

But  all  in  \aiii  ;  tb.ey  had  no  heart  to  fight, 

I.    2  ,4.  Ik.H.VI.22. 


Act  ir.-\  KING  HENR  Y  VT.  \Scene  I. 

And  we,  in  them,  no  hope  to  win  the  day  ; 
So  that  we  fled  ;  the  king'  unto  tlie  queen  ; 
Lord  George  your  brother,  Norfolk,  and  myself. 
In  haste,  post-haste,  are  come  to  join  with  you  ; 
For  in  the  marches  here  we  heard  you  were 
Making  another  head  to  fight  again. 

Edw.  Where  is  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  gentle  Warwick? 
And  when  came  George  from  Burgundy  to  England  ? 

War.  Some  six  miles  off  the  duke  is  with  his  power; 
And  for  your  brother,  he  was  iatel\-  sent 
From  your  kind  aunt.  Duchess  of  Burgundy, 
With  aid  of  soldiers  to  this  needful  war. 

Rich.  'Twas  odds,  belike,  when  valiant  Warwick  fled  : 
Oft  have  I  heard  his  praises  in  pursuit. 
But  ne'er  till  now  his  scandal  of  retire. 

W'ar.  Nor  now  my  scandal,  Richard,  dost  thou  hear  ; 
For  thou  shalt  know  this  strong  right  hand  of  mine 
Can  pluck  the  diadem  from  faint  Henry's  head, 
And  wring  the  awful  scepter  from  his  fist. 
Were  he  as  famous  and  as  bold  in  war 
As  he  is  fam'd  for  mildness,  peace,  and  prayer. 

Rich.  I  know  it  well,  Loid  Warwick  ;  blame  me  not : 
'Tis  love  I  bear  thy  glories  makes  me  speak. 
But  in  this  troublous  time  what's  to  be  done? 
Shall  we  go  throw  away  our  coats  of  steel, 
And  wrap  our  bodies  in  black  mourning-gowns. 
Numbering  our  Ave-Maries  with  our  beads? 
Or  shall  we  on  the  helmets  of  our  foes 
Tell  our  devotion  with  revengeful  arms  ? 
If  for  the  last,  say  "  Ay,"  and  to  it,  lords. 

War.  Why,  therefore  Warwick  came  to  seek  you  out  ; 
And  therefore  comes  my  brother  Montague. 
Attend  me,  lords.     The  proud  insulting  queen. 
With  Clifford  and  the  haught  Northumberland, 
And  of  their  feather  many  more  proud  birds. 
Have  wrought  the  easy  melting  king  like  wax. 
He  swore  consent  to  your  succession, 
His  oath  enrolled  in  the  parliament ; 
And  now  to  London  all  the  crew  are  gone. 
To  frustrate  both  his  oath,  and  what  beside 
May  make  against  the  house  of  Lancaster. 
Their  power,  I  think,  is  thirty  thousand  strong : 
Now,  if  the  help  of  Norfolk  and  myself, 

K.H.VI.23.]  I.  2';5. 


Act//.]  THE   T//IRD  PART  OF  [Scene//. 

With  all  the  friends  that  thou,  brave  Earl  of  March, 
Amongst  the  loving  Welslimen  canst  procure, 
Will  but  amount  to  tive-and-twenty  thousand. 
Why,   Via .'  to  London  will  we  march  amain  ; 
And  once  again  bestride  our  foaming  steeds, 
And  once  again  cry,  "  Charge  !  upon  our  foes  !  " 
But  never  once  again  turn  back  and  fly. 

Rich.  Ay,  now  methinks  I  hear  great  Warwick  speak  : 
Ne'er  may  he  live  to  see  a  sunshine  day, 
That  cries,  "  Retire,"  if  Warwick  bid  him  stay. 

Edw.  Lord  Warwick,  on  thy  shoulder  will  I  lean  ; 
And  when  thou  fall'st. —  as  (rod  forbid  the  hour  I  — 
Must  Edward  fall,  which  peril  heaven  forfend   ! 

War.   No  longer  Earl  of  March,  but  Duke  of  York  : 
The  next  degree  is  England's  royal   throne  ; 
For  King  of  England  shalt  thou  be  proclaim'd 
In  every  borough  as  we  pass  along  ; 
And  he  that  throws  not  up  his  cap  for  joy. 
Shall  for  the  fault  make  forfeit  of  his  head. 
King  Edward, —  valiant  Richard, —  Montague, — 
Stay  we  no  longer,  dreaming  of  renown. 
But  sound  the  trumpets,  and  about  our  task. 

Rich.  Then,  Clifford,  were  thy  heart  as  hard  as  steel, — 
As  thou  hast  shown  it  flinty  by  thy  deeds, — 
I  come  to  pierce  it,  or  to  give  thee  mine. 

Edw.  Then  strike  up  drums:  — God  and  Saint  George 
for  us ! 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

War.  How  now  !  what  news  ? 

Mess.  The  Duke  of  Norfolk    sends  you  word  by  me 
The  queen  is  coming  with  a  puissant  host. 
And  craves  your  company  for  speedy  counsel. 

War.  Why,  then  it  sorts,  brave  warriors  :  let's  away. 

^Exeunt. 

Scene  IL     Before   York. 

Flourish.     Enter     King    Henry,  Queen     MARGARET, 

the  Prince  of  Wales,  Clifford,  and  North- 

UMKERLAND,  with  Forces. 

Q.  Mar.  Welcome,  my  lord,  to  this  brave  town  of  York. 
Yonder's  the  head  of  that  arch-enemy 

L   8S6.  lie. H. VI. 24. 


Act  //.]  A/.VG  f/EXK  1  ■  II.  [ScfHf  11. 

That  sought  to  be  enconipass'd  with  your  crown: 
Doth  not  the  object  cheer  your  heart,  my  lord  ? 

A'.  Ht-ii.  Ay,  as   the  rocks  cheer   ihcni   that   fear  their 
wreck  :  — 
To  see  this  sight,  it  irks  my  very  soul.— 
Withhold  revenge,  dear  God  !  'tis  not  my  fault. 
Nor  wittingly  have  I  infring'd  ni\    vow. 

Clif.  My  gracious  liege,  this  too  much  lenity 
And  harmful  pity  must  be  laid  aside. 
To  whom  do  lions  cast  their  gentle  looks  ? 
Not  to  the  beast  that  would  usurp  their  den. 
Whose  hand  is  that  the  forest  bear  doth  lick  ? 
Not  his  that  spoils  her  young  before  her  face. 
Who  scapes  the  lurking  ser])ent's  mortal  sting? 
Not  he  that  sets  his  foot  upon  her  back. 
The  smallest  worm  will  turn  being  trodden  on, 
And  doves  will  peck  in  safeguard  of  their  brood. 
Ambitious  York  did  level  at  thy  crown, 
Thou  smiling  while  he  knit  his  angry  brows  : 
He,  but  a  duke,  would  have  his  son  a  king, 
And  raise  his  issue,  like  a  loving  sire  ; 
Thou,  being  a  king,  bless'd  with  a  goodly  son, 
Didst  yield  consent  to  disinherit  him, 
Which  argu'd  thee  a  most  unloving  father. 
Unreasonable  creatures  feed  their  young; 
And  though  man's  face  be  fearful  to  their  eyes, 
Yet,  in  protection  of  their  tender  ones. 
Who  hath  not  seen  them,  even  with  those  wings 
Which  sometime  they  have  us'd  in  fearful  flight, 
Make  war  with  him  that  climb'd  unto  their  nest, 
Offering  their  own  lives  in  their  young's  defense? 
For  shame,  my  liege,  make  them  your  precedent  1 
Were  it  not  pit\  that  this  goodly  boy 
Should  lose  his  birthright  hv  his  father's  fault. 
And  long  hereafter  sa)  unto  his  child, 
"  What  my  great-grandfather  and  grandsire  got 
My  careless  father  fondlv  gave  away  ?  " 
Ah,  what  a  shame  were  this  !  Look  on  the  boy ; 
And  let  his  manly  face,  which  promiseth 
Successful  fortune,  steel  thy  melting  heart 
To  hold  thine  own,  and  lta\  e  thine  own  with  him. 

K.  Hen.  Full  well  hath  Clifford  play'd  the  orator, 
Inferring  arguments  of  mighty  force. 
K.H.V1.25.]  I.  257. 


Aci//.]  THE   THIRD  FART  OF  [Scene  Jl. 

But,  Clifford,  tell  me,  didst  thou  never  hear 

That  things  ill-got  had  ever  bad  success  ? 

And  happy  always  was  it  for  that  son 

Whose  father  for  his  hoarding  went  to  hell.? 

I'll  leave  my  son  my  virtuous  deeds  behind  ; 

And  would  my  father  had  left  me  no  more  ! 

For  all  the  rest  is  held  at  such  a  rate 

As  brings  a  thousand-fold  more  care  to   keep 

Than  in  possession  any  jot  of  pleasure. — 

Ah,  cousin  York  !  would  thy  best  friends  did  know 

How  it  doth  grieve  me  that  thy  head  is  here  ! 

Q.  Mar.  My   lord,  cheer  up  your  spirits  :   our  foes  are 
nigh, 
And  this  soft  courage  makes  your  followers  faint. 
You  promis'd  knighthood  to  our  forward  son  : 
Unsheathe  your  sword,  and  dub  him  presently. — 
Edward,  kneel  down. 

K.  Hen.  Edward  Plantagenet,  arise  a  knight ; 
And  learn  this  lesson, —  draw  thy  sword  in  right. 

Prince.  My  gracious  father,  by  your  kingly  leave, 
I'll  draw  it  as  apparent  to  the  crown, 
And  in  that  quarrel  use  it  to  the  death. 

Clif.  Why,  that  is  spoken  like  a  toward  prince. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

Mess.  Royal  commanders,  be  in  readiness  : 
For  with  a  band  of  thirty  thousand  men 
Comes  Warwick,  backing  of  the  Duke  of  York; 
And  in  the  tow-ns,  as  they  do  march  along. 
Proclaims  him  king,  and  many  fly  to  him  : 
Darraign  your  battle,  for  they  are  at  hand. 

Clif.   I  would  your  highness  would  depart  the  field  : 
The  queen  hath  best  success  when  you  are  absent. 

(2-  M  ir.  Ay,  good  my  lord,  and  leave  us  to  our  fortune. 

K.  Hen.  Why,  that's  my  fortune  too  ;  therefore  I'll  stay. 

North.  Be  it  with   resolution,  then,  to  fight. 

Prince.  My  royal  father,  cheer  these  noble  lords, 
And  hearten  those  that  fight  in  your  defense  : 
Unsheathe  your  sword,  good  father  ;  cry,  "  Saint  George  !  " 

March.    Enter   Edward,    Georgk,   Richard,  War- 
wick, Norfolk,  Montagu k,  and  Soldiers. 

Ediv.  Now,  perjur'd  Henry !  wilt  thou  kneel  for  grace. 
1. 258.  [K.H.V1.26. 


Act//.]  K/XG  /!EXRY  V/.  [Scene //. 

And  spt  thy  diadem  upon  my  head  ; 
Or  bide  the  mortal  fortune  of  the  field  ? 

Q.  Mar.  Go,  rate  thy  minions,  proud  insulting  boy  ! 
Becomes  it  thee  to  be  thus  bold  in  terms 
Before  thy  sovereign  and  thy  lawful  king  ? 

Edit'.   I  am  his  king,  and  he  should  bow  his  knee; 
I  was  adopted  heir  by  his  consent  : 
Since  when,  his  oath  is  broke  ;  for,  as  I  hear. 
You,  that  are  king,  though  he  do  wear  the  crown, 
Have  caus'd  him,  by  new  act  of  parliament. 
To  blot  out  me,  and  put  his  own  son  in. 

Clif.  And  reason  too  : 
Who  should  succeed  the  father  but  the  son  ? 

Rich.  Are  you  there,  butcher  ?  —  O,  I  cannot  speak  ! 

Clif.  Ay,  crook-bark,  here  I  stand  to  answer  thee. 
Or  any  he  the  proudest  of  thy  sort. 

Rich.   'Twas  you  that  kill'd  young  Rutland,  was  it  not  ? 

Clif.  Ay,  and  old  York,  and  yet  not  satisfied. 

Rich.  For  God's  sake,  lords,  give  signal  to  the  light. 

War.  What   say'st   thou,    Henry,  wilt   thou  yield   the 
crown  .'' 

Q.  Mar.  Why,  how  now,  long-tongu'd  Warwick  !  dare 
you  speak  ? 
When  you  and  I  met  at  Saint  Alban's  last. 
Your  legs  did  better  service  than  your  hands. 

War.  Then  "twas  my  turn  to  fly,  and  now  'tis  thine. 

Clif.  You  said  so  much  before,  and  yet  you  fled. 

War.  'Twas  not  your  valor,  Clifford,  drove  me  thence. 

North.   No,  nor  your   manhood  that   durst   make   you 
stay. 

Rich.   Northumberland,  I  hold  thee  reverently. — 
Break  off  the  parle  ;  for  scarce  I  can  refrain 
The  execution  of  my  big-swoln  heart 
Upon  that  Clifford,  that  cruel  child-killer. 

Clif.   I  slew  thy  father, —  call'st  thou  him  a  child.' 

Rich.  Ay,  like  a  dastard  and  a  treacherous  coward, 
As  thou  didst  kill  our  tender  brother  Rutland  ; 
But  ere  sun  set  I'll  make  thee  curse  the  deed. 

K.  Hen.  Have  done  with   words,  my  lords,   and  hear 
me  speak. 

Q.  Mar.  Defy  them,  then,  or  else  hold  close  thy  lips. 

K.  Hen.  I  prithee,  give  no  limits  to  my  tongiie  : 
I  am  a  king,  and  privileg'd  to  speak. 

K.H.VI.27.]  I    259 


Ac///.]  THE    THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene  II. 

Clif.  My  liege,  the  wound  that  bred  this  meeting  here 
Cannot  be  cur'd  by  words  ;  therefore  be  still. 

Rich.  Then,  executioner,  unsheathe  thy  sword  : 
By  him  that  made  us  all,  I  am  resolv'd 
That  Clifford's  manhood  lies  upon  his  tongue. 

Ed%u.  Say,  Henry,  shall  I  have  my  right,  or  no  ? 
A  thousand  men  have  broke  their  fasts  to-day 
That  ne'er  shall  dine  unless  thou  yield  the  crown. 

War.  If  thou  deny,  their  blood  upon  thy  head  ; 
For  York  in  justice  puts  his  armor  on. 

Prince.  If  that  be  right  which  Warwick  says  is  right, 
There  is  no  wrong,  but  every  thing  is  right. 

Rich.  Whoever  got  thee,  there  thy  mother  stands; 
For,  well  I  wot,  thou  hast  thy  mother's  tongue. 

Q.  Mar.  But  thou  art  neither  like  thy  sire  nor  dam  ; 
But  like  a  foul  mis-shapen  stfgmatic, 
Alark'd  by  the  Destinies  to  be  avoided, 
As  venom  toads,  or  lizards'  dreadful  stings. 

Rich.  Iron  of  Naples  hid  with  English  gilt, 
Whose  father  bears  the  title  of  a  king, — 
As  if  a  channel  should  be  call'd  the  sea, — 
Sham'st  thou  not,  knowing  whence  thou  art  extraught, 
To  let  thy  tongue  detect  thy  base-born  heart  } 

Edw.  A  wisp  of  straw  were  worth  a  thousand  crowns, 
To  make  this  shameless  callet  know  herself. — 
Helen  of  Greece  was  fairer  far  than  thou, 
Although  thy  husband  may  be  Menelaus ; 
And  ne'er  was  Agamemnon's  brother  wrong'd 
By  that  false  woman  as  this  king  by  thee. 
His  father  revel'd  in  the  heart  of  France, 
And  tam'd  the  king,  and  made  the  dauphin  stoop; 
And  had  he  match'd  according  to  his  state, 
He  might  have  kept  that  glory  to  this  day  ; 
But  when  he  took  a  beggar  to  his  bed. 
And  grac'd  thy  poor  sire  with  his  bridal-day. 
Even  then  that  sunshine  brew'd  a  shower  for  him. 
That  wash'd  his  father's  fortunes  forth  of  France, 
And  heap'd  sedition  on  his  crown  at  home. 
For  what  hath  broach'd  this  tumult  but  thy  pride  ? 
Hadst  thou  been  meek,  our  title  still  had  aiept  ; 
And  we,  in  pity  of  the  gentle  king, 
I^ad  slipp'd  our  claim  until  another  age. 

Geo.  But  when  we  saw  our  sunshine  made  thy  spring, 

1.  zbo.  [K.H.VI.28. 


A  ct  n.  ]  KIXG  HEKR  V  17.  [Sanf  ///. 

And  that  thy  summer  bred  us  no  increase. 

We  set  the  ax  to  thy  usurpuig  root  ; 

And  though  the  edge  halli  sometliir.g  hit  ourselves, 

Yet,  know  thou,  since  we  have  begun  to  strike, 

We'll  never  leave  till  we  have  hewn  thee  down. 

Or  bath'd  thy  growing  with  our  heated  bloods. 

Ed7C'.  And,  in  this  resolution,  I  defy  thee  ; 
Not  willing  any  longer  conference, 
Since  thou  deniest  the  gentle  king  to  speak. — 
Sound  trumpets  !  —  let  our  bloody  colors  wave  !  — 
And  either  victory,  or  else  a  grave. 

Q.  Mar.  Stay,  Edward. 

Ediv.  No,  wrangling  woman,  we'll  no  longer  stay  : 
These  words  will  cost  ten  thousand  lives  this  day. 

[  Exeunt. 

Scene  III.     A  field  of  batilc  biH^'t-cn  Toudon  and 
Saxtoii,  ill    }  orksJiirc. 
A/aru/ns  :  excursions.     Enter  Warwick. 
War.    Forspent  with  toil,  as  runners  with  a  race, 
I  lay  me  down  a  little  while  to  breathe  ; 
For  strokes  receiv'd,  and  many  blows  repaid, 
Have  robb'd  my  strong-knit  sinews  of  their  strength. 
And,  spite  of  spite,  needs  must  I  rest  awhile. 
Enter  Edward,  running. 
Edw.  Smile,  gentle  heaven  !  or  strike,  ungentle  death.  ! 
For  this  world  frowns,  and  Edward's  sun  is  clouded. 
War.  How  now,  my  lord  !  what  hap  ?  what  hope  of 
good .'' 

Enter  George. 
Geo.  Our  hap  is  loss,  our  hope  but  sad  despair ; 
Our  ranks  are  broke,  and  ruin  follows  usj 
What  counsel  give  you  }  whither  shall  we  fly  ? 

Edw.  Bootless  is  flight, —  they  follow  us  with  wings  ; 
And  weak  we  are,  and  cannot  shun  pursuit. 
Enter  RiCHARD. 
Rich.  Ah,  Warwick,  why  hast  thou  withdrawn  thyself  ? 
Thy  brother's  blood  the  thirsty  earth  hath  drunk, 
Broach'd  with  the  steely  point  of  Clifford's  lance  ; 
And,  in  the  very  pangs  of  death,  he  cried, 
Like  to  a  dismal  clangor  heard  from  far, 
'•  Warwick,  revenge  !  brother,  revenge  my  death  ! " 

K.H.vi.2g.]  I    »6i. 


Asf //.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  {Scene  IV. 

So,  underneath  the  belly  of  their  steeds, 

That  stain'd  their  fetlocks  in  his  smoking  blood, 

The  noble  gentleman  gave  up  the  ghost. 

War.  Then  let  the  earth  be  drunken  with  our  blood  ; 
I'll  kill  my  horse,  because  I  will  not  fly. 
Why  stand  we  like  soft-hearted  women  here, 
Wailing  our  losses,  whiles  the  foe  doth  rage  ; 
And  look  upon,  as  if  the  tragedy 
Were  play'd  in  jest  by  counterfeiting  actors  ? 
Here  on  my  knee  I  vow  to  God  above, 
I'll  never  pause  again,  never  stand  still, 
Till  either  death  hath  clos'd  these  eyes  of  mine, 
Or  fortune  given  me  measure  of  revenge. 

Edw.  O  Warwick,  I  do  bend  my  knee  with  thine  ; 
And  in  this  vow  do  chain  my  soul  to  thine  I  — 
And,  ere  my  knee  rise  from  the  earth's  cold  face, 
I  throw  my  hands,  mine  eyes,  my  heart  to  thee. 
Thou  setter-up  and  plucker-down  of  kings, — 
Beseeching  thee,  if  with  thy  will  it  stands 
That  to  my  foes  this  body  must  be  prey, 
Yet  that  the  brazen  gates  of  heaven  may  ope, 
And  give  sweet  passage  to  my  sinful  soul  I  — 
Now,  lords,  take  leave  until  we  meet  again, 
Where'er  it  be,  in  heaven  or  in  earth. 

Rich.  Brother,  give  me  thy  hand  ;  —  and,  gentle  War- 
wick, 
Let  me  embrace  thee  in  my  weary  arms  : 
I,  that  did  never  weep,  now  melt  with  woe 
That  winter  should  cut  off  our  spring-time  so. 

War.  Away,  away  !    Once  more,  sweet  lords,  farewell. 

Geo.  Yet  let  us  all  together  to  our  troops. 
And  give  them  leave  to  fly  that  will  not  stay  ; 
And  call  them  pillars  that  will  stand  to  us  ; 
And,  if  we  thrive,  promise  them  such  rewards 
As  victors  ware  at  the  Olvmpian  games  : 
This  may  plant  courage  in  their  quailing  breasts  ; 
For  yet  is  hope  of  life  and  victory. — 
Forslow  no  longer,  make  we  hence  amain.  \Exeunt, 

Scene  IV.     Another  pari  of  the  field. 
Excursions.     Enter  RiCHARD  a7id  Clifford. 
Rich.  Now,  Clifford,  I  have  singled  thee  alone  : 
Suppose  this  arm  is  for  the  Duke  of  York, 

1  Q62.  [K.H.V1.30. 


A ct  11. "^  KING  HE.\ ffr  1 7.  [St. ene  l'. 

And  this  for  Rutland  ;  both  bound  to  revenge, 
Wert  thou  environ'd  with  a  brazen  wall. 

C/i'f.  Now,  Richard,  I  am  with  thee  here  alone: 
This  is  the  hand  that  stabb'd  thy  father  York  ; 
And  this  the  hand  that  slew  thy  brother  Rutland  ; 
And  here's  the  heart  that  triumphs  in  their  deaths, 
And  cheers  these  hands  that  slew  thy  sire  and  brother. 
To  execute  the  like  upon  thyself ; 
And  so,  have  at  thee  ! 

I  'TJiey  figlit.      ]\^arivick  entos  ;  Clifford  flies. 

Rich.  Nay,  Warwick,  single  out  some  other  chase  ; 
For  I  myself  will  hunt  this  wolf  to  death.  {Exeunt, 

Scene  V.     Another  part  of  the  field. 
AlaruiHS.     Enter  King  Henrv. 
K.  Hen.  This  battle  fares  like  to  the  morning's  war, 
When  dying  clouds  contend  with  growing  light, 
What  time  the  shepherd,  blowing  of  his  nails. 
Can  neither  call  it  perfect  day  nor  night. 
Now  sways  it  this  way,  like  a  mighty  sea 
Forc'd  by  the  tide  to  combat  with  the  wind; 
Now  sways  it  that  way,  like  the  selfsame  sea 
Forc'd  to  retire  by  fury  of  the  wind  : 
Sometime  the  flood  prevails,  and  then  the  wind ; 
Now  one  the  better,  then  another  best ; 
Both  tugging  to  be  victors,  breast  to  breast. 
Yet  neither  conqueror  nor  conquered  : 
So  is  the  equal  poise  of  this  fell  war. 
Here  on  this  molehill  will  I  sit  me  down. 
To  whom  God  will,  there  be  the  victory  ! 
For  Margaret  my  queen,  and  Clifford  too 
Have  chid  me  from  the  battle;  swearing  both 
They  prosper  best  of  all  when  I  am  thence. 
Would  I  were  dead  !  if  God's  good  will  were  .so; 
For  what  is  in  this  world  but  grief  and  woer 
O  God  !  methinks  it  were  a  happy  life, 
To  be  no  better  than  a  homely  swain  ; 
To  sit  upon  a  hill,  as  I  do  now. 
To  carve  out  dials  quaintly,  point  by  point. 
Thereby  to  see  the  iriinutes  how  they  run, 
How  many  make  the  hour  full  complete  ; 
How  many  hours  bring  about  the  drnv ; 
How  many  days  will  finish  up  th^  rear , 

K.H.V1.31.]  I.  ^63 


,Ut  rl.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  \Sctnt  v . 

t 

How  many  years  a  mnrtal  man  may  live. 

When  this  is  i<no\vn,  then  to  divide  the  times, — 

So  many  hours  must  I  tend  my  flock  ; 

So  manv  hours  must  I  take  my  rest; 

So  many  hours  must  I  contemplate  ; 

So  many  hours  must  I  sport  myself ; 

So  many  days  my  ewes  have  been  with  young; 

So  many  weeks  ere  the  poor  fools  will  yean  ; 

So  many  months  ere  I  shall  shear  the  fleece  : 

So  minutes,  hours,  days,  weeks,  months,  and  years, 

Pass'd  over  to  the  end  they  were  created. 

Would  bring'  white  hairs  unto  a  quiet  grave. 

Ah,  what  a  life  were  this  I  how  sweet !  how  lovely! 

Gives  not  the  hawthorn-bush  a  sweeter  shade 

To  shepherds  looking  on  their  silly  sheep. 

Than  doth  a  rich-embroider'd  canopy 

To  kings  that  fear  their  subjects'  treachery? 

O,  yes,  it  doth  ;  a  thousand-fold,  it  doth. 

And  to  conclude, —  the  shepherd's  homely  curds. 

His  cold  thin  drink  out  of  his  leather  bottle, 

His  wonted  sleep  under  a  fresh  tree's  shade. 

Ail  which  secure  and  sweetly  he  enjoys, 

Is  far  beyond  a  prince's  delicates. 

His  viands  sparkling  in  a  golden  cup, 

His  body  couched  in  a  curious  bed, 

When  care,  mistrust,  and  treason  wait  on  him. 

Alarums.  Enter  a  Son  that  has  killed  his  father,  bring" 
ing  in  the  dead  body. 

Son.  Ill  blows  the  wind  that  profits  nobody. 
This  man,  whom  hand  to  hand  I  slew  in  fight. 
May  be  possessed  of  some  store  of  crowns ; 
And  I,  that  haply  take  them  from  him  now. 
May  yet  ere  night  yield  both  my  life  and  them 
To  some  man  else,  as  this  dead  man  doth  me.— 
Who's  this  ?  —  O  God  !  it  is  my  father's  face, 
Whom  in  this  conflict  I  unawares  have  kill'd. 
O  heavy  times,  begetting  such  events  ! 
From  London  by  the  king  was  I  press'd  forth  ; 
My  father  being  the  Earl  of  Warwick's  man, 
Came  on  the  part  of  York,  press'd  by  his  master; 
And  I,  who  at  his  hands  receiv'd  my  life, 
Have  by  my  hands  of  life  bereaved  him. — • 

T.264.  lK.H.vi.3a. 


■^ct//.]  KING  HENRY  M.  \Sctne  V. 

Pardon  me,  God,  I  knew  not  what  I  did!  — 
And  pardon,  father,  for  I  knew  not  thee!  — 
My  tears  shall  wipe  away  these  bloody  marks; 
And  no  more  words  till  they  have  flow'd  their  fill. 
K.  Hi'/i.  O  piteous  spectacle!  O  bloody  times! 
Whiles  lions  war  and  battle  for  their  dens. 
Poor  harmless  lambs  abide  their  enmity. — 
Weep,  wretched  man,  I'll  aid  thee  tear  for  tear; 
And  let  our  hearts  and  eyes,  like  civil  war, 
Be  blind  with  tears,  and  break  o'ercharg'd  with  grief. 

Enter  a  Father  that  has  killed  his  son,  bringing  in  the 
dead  body. 

Path.  Thou  that  so  stoutly  hast  resisted  me, 
Give  me  thy  gold,  if  thou  hast  any  gold  ; 
For  I  have  bought  it  with  an  hundred  blows. — 
But  let  me  see  :    is  this  our  foeman's  face? 
Ah,  no,  no,  no,  it  is  mine  onlv  son  ! 
Ah,  boy,  if  any  life  be  left  in  thee, 
Throw  up  thine  eye !  see,  see  what  showers  arise, 
Blown  with  the  windy  tempest  of  my  heart. 
Upon  thy  wounds,  that  kill  mine  eye  and  heart!  — 
O,  pity,  God,  this  miserable  age  !  — 
What  stratagems,  how  fell,  how  butcherly, 
Erroneous,  mutinous,  and  unnatural. 
This  deadly  quarrel  daily  doth  beget  ! 
O  boy,  thy  father  gave  thee  life  too  soon. 
And  hath  bereft  thee  of  thy  life  too  late  ! 

K.  Hen.  Woe  above  wf)e  !  grief  more  than  common  grief ! 
O,  that  my  death  would  stay  these  ruthful  deeds!  — 
O.  pity,  pity,  gentle  heaven,  pity  !  — 
The  red  rose  and  the  white  are  on  his  face. 
The  fatal  colors  of  our  striving  houses : 
The  one  his  purple  blood  right  well  resembles; 
The  other  his  pale  cheek,  methinks,  presenteth  : 
Wither  one  rose,  and  let  the  other  flourish ; 
If  you  contend,  a  thousand  lives  must  wither. 

Son.  How  will  mv  mother  for  a  father's  deiStk 
Take  on  with  me,  and  ne'er  be  satisfied ! 

Path.  How  will  my  wife  for  slaughter  of  my  son 
Shed  seas  of  tears,  and  ne'er  be  satisfied  ! 

A'.  Hen.  How  will  the  country  for  these  woeful  chances 
Misthink  the  king,  and  not  be  satisfied  ! 

K.H.VI.33.]  I-  2<^'5- 


Act  II?i  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  \Scene  Vl. 

Son.  'Vas  ever  son  so  ru'd  a  father's  death  ? 

Faf/i.  Was  ever  father  so  bemoan'd  his  son  ? 

K.  Hen.  Was  ever  king  so  griev'd  for  subjects'  woe? 
Much  is  your  sorrow  ;  mine  ten  times  so  much. 

Son.  I'll  bear  thee  hence,  where  I  may  weep  my  fill. 

[Ex//  iviih  the  body. 

Fath.  These  arms  of  mine  shall  be  thy  winding-sheet ; 
My  heart,  sweet  boy,  shall  be  thy  sepulcher, — 
For  from  my  heart  thine  image  ne'er  shall  go  ; 
My  sighing  breast  shall  be  thy  funeral  bell  ; 
And  so  obsequious  will  thy  father  be. 
E'en  for  the  loss  of  thee,  having  no  more, 
As  Priam  was  for  all  his  valiant  sons. 
I'll  bear  thee  hence;  and  let  them  fight  that  will, 
For  I  have  murder'd  where  I  should  not  kill. 

[Exit  7vifh  the  body. 

K.  Hen.  Sad-hearted  men,  much  overgone  with  care. 
Here  sits  a  king  more  woeful  than  you  are. 

Alarums :  excursions.  Enter  Queen  MARGARET,  Prince 
of  Wales,  a?id¥.XKT'E.K. 

Prince.  Fly,  father,  fly !  for  all  your  friends  are  fled, 
And  Warwick  rages  like  a  chafed  bull : 
Away  !  for  death  doth  hold  us  in  pursuit. 

Q.  Mar.  Mount  you,   my  lord  ;    toward  Berwick  post 
amain  : 
Edward  and  Richard,  like  a  brace  of  greyhounds 
Having  the  fearful  flying  hare  in  sighj. 
"With  herv  eyes  sparkling  for  very  wrath. 
And  bloody  steel  grasp'd  in  their  ireful  hands. 
Are  at  our  backs  ;  and  therefore  hence  amain. 

Exe.  Away  !  for  vengeance  comes  along  with  them '. 
Nay,  stay  not  to  expostulate, — -make  speed; 
Or  else  come  after:  I'll  away  before. 

K.  Hen.  Nay,  take  me  with  thee,  good  sweet  Exeter: 
Not  that  I  fear  to  stay,  but  love  to  go 
Whither  the  queen  intends.     Forward;  away! 

{^Exeunt, 

Scene  VI.     Another  p.irt  of  the  field. 
A  loud  alarum.     Enter  Ci.iEKoRn,  wounded. 
Clif.  Here  burns  my  candle  oi.t,      ay,  here  it  dies. 
Which,  whiles  it  lasted,  gave  King  Hinry  light. 

1.  806.  [K.H.V1.J4. 


A  a  //.]  AVA'C  f/EXRV  VI.  {Scene  K/. 

O  Lancaster,  I  fear  tliv  overthrow 
More  than  my  body's  parting  with  my  soul ! 
My  love  and  fearglu'd  many  friends  to  thee; 
And,  now  I  fail,  that  tough  commixture  melts. 
Impairing  Henry,  strengthening  misproud  York, 
The  common  people  swarm  like  summer  flies; 
And  whither  fly  the  gnats  but  to  the  sun  ? 
And  who  shine  now  but  Henn's  enemies  ? 

0  Phoebus,  hadst  thou  never  given  consent 
That  Phaethon  should  check  thy  tiery  steeds. 
Thy  burning  car  never  had  scorch'd  the  earth  ! 
And,  Heniy,  hadst  thou  sway'd  as  kings  should  do. 
Or  as  thy  father  and  his  father  did, 

Givnig  no  ground  unto  the  house  of  York, 

1  and  ten  thousand  in  this  luckless  realm 
Had  left  no  mourning  widows  for  our  deaths; 
And  thou  this  day  hadst  kept  thy  chair  in  peace. 
For  what  doth  cherish  weeds  but  gentle  air  ? 

And  what  makes  robbers  bold  but  too  much  lenity?  — 

Bootless  are  plaints,  and  cureless  are  my  wounds; 

No  way  to  fly,  nor  strength  to  hold  out  flight: 

The  foe  is  merciless,  and  will  not  pity; 

For  at  their  hands  I  have  deserv'd  no  pity. 

The  air  hath  got  into  my  deadly  wounds, 

And  much  effuse  of  blood  doth  make  me  faint. — 

Come,  York  and  Richard,  Warwick  and  the  rest; 

I  stabb'd  your  fathers'  bosoms, —  split  my  breast.  [Faints. 

Alarum  and  retreat.    Enter  Edward,  George,  Rich- 
ard, Montague,  Warwick,  and  Soldiers. 

Ediif.  Now  breathe  we,  lords :    good  fortune  bids  us 
pause. 
And  smooth  the  frowns  of  war  with  peaceful  looks. — 
Some  troops  pursue  the  bloodv-minded  c|ueen, 
That  led  calm  Henry,  though  he  were  a  king, 
As  doth  a  sail,  hll'd  with  a  fretting  gust, 
Command  an  argosy  to  stem  the  waves. 
But  think  you.  lords,  that  Clifford  fled  with  them? 

]Var.  No,  'tis  impossible  he  should  escape; 
For,  though  before  his  face  I  speak  the  words, 
Your  brother  Richard  mark'd  him  for  the  grave: 
And  wheresoe'er  he  is,  he's  surely  dead. 

[Clifford groans,  and  dies. 

K.H.VI    35.)  I.  867. 


Act  n.]  THE   TH/KD  PART  OP  {Scene  Vl. 

Edw.  Whose  soul  is  that  which  takes  her  heavy  leave  ? 

Rich.  A  deadly  groan,  like  life  and  death's  departing. 

Ediv.  See  who  it  is  :  and,  now  the  battle's  ended, 
If  friend  or  foe,  let  him  be  gently  us'd. 

Rich.  Revoke  that  doom  of  mercy,  for  'tis  Clifford  ; 
Who  not  contented  that  he  lopp'd  the  branch 
In  hewing  Rutland  wiien  his  leaves  put  forth, 
But  set  his  murdering  knife  unto  the  root 
From  whence  that  tender  spray  did  sweetly  spring, — 
I  mean  our  princely  father,  Duke  of  York. 

War.  From  off  the  gates  of  York  fetch  down  the  head. 
Your  father's  head,  which  Clifford  placed  there; 
Instead  whereof  let  his  sup])lv  the  room  : 
Measure  for  measure  mu^t  be  answered. 

Edw.  Bring  forth  that  fatal  screech-owl  to  our  house. 
That  nothing  sung  but  death  to  us  and  ours  : 
Now  death  shall  stop  his  dismal-threatening  sound, 
And  his  ill-boding  tongue  no  more  shall  speak. 

I  So/dicrs  bring  the  body  forward. 

War.   I  think  his  understanding  is  bereft. — 
Speak,  Clifford,  dost  thou  know  who  speaks  to  thee  ?  — 
Dark  cloudy  death  o'ershades  his  beams  of  life. 
And  he  nor  sees  nor  hears  us  what  we  say. 

Rich.  O,  would  he  did  !  and  so.  perhaps,  he  doth  : 
'Tis  but  his  policy  to  counterfeit, 
Because  he  would  avoid  such  bitter  taunts 
Which  in  the  time  of  death  he  gave  our  father. 

Geo.  If  so  thou  think'st,  vex  him  with  eager  words. 

Rich.  Clifford,  ask  mercy,  and  obtain  no  grace. 

Edw.  Clifford,  repent  in  bootless  penitence. 

War.  Clifford,  devise  excuses  for  thy  faults. 

Geo.  While  we  devise  fell  tortures  for  thy  faults. 

Rich.  Thou  didst  love  York,  and  I  am  son  to  York. 

Edw.  Thou  pitied 'st  Rutland  ;   I  will  ])ity  thee. 

Geo.  Where's  Captain  Margaret,  to  fence  you  now  ? 

War.  They  mock  thee,  Clifford  :   swear  as  thou  wast 
wont. 

Rich.  What,  not  an  oath  7  nay,  then  the  world  goes  hard 
When  Clifford  cannot  spare  his  friends  an  oath. — 
I  know  by  that  he's  dead  ;  and,  by  my  soul, 
If  this  right  hand  would  buy  two  hours'  life, 
That  I  in  all  des|)ite  might  rail  at  him, 
This  hand  should  chop  it  off ;  and  with  the  issuing  blood 

I.  a68.  [K.H.yi.36, 


Act  ni.]  KING  HE^fRY  VI.  [S.eKe  I. 

Stifla  the  \illain  whube  unstanched  thirst 
York  and  young  Rutland  could  not  satisfy. 

War.  Ay,  but  he's  dead  :  off  with  tlie  traitor's  head, 
And  rear  it  in  the  place  your  father's  stands. — 
And  now  to  London  witli  triumphant  march, 
There  to  be  crowned  England's  royal  king. 
From  whence  shall  Warwick  cut  the  sea  to  France, 
And  ask  the  Lady  Bona  for  thy  Queen  : 
So  shaft  thou  sinew  both  these  lands  together; 
And,  having  France  thy  friend,  thou  shalt  not  dread 
The  scatter'd  foe  that  fiopes  to  rise  again  ; 
For  though  the)-  cannot  greatly  sting  io  hurt. 
Yet  look  to  have  them  buzz  t'  offend  thine  ears. 
First  I  will  see  the  coronation  ; 
And  then  to  Brittany  Fll  cross  the  sea, 
T'  effect  this  marriage,  so  it  please  my  lord. 

Edw.  E\en  as  thou  wilt,  sweet  Warwick,  let  it  be ; 
For  in  thy  shoulder  do  I  build  my  seat, 
And  never  will  I  undertake  the  thing 
Wherein  thy  counsel  and  consent  is  wanting. — 
Richard,  I  will  create  thee  Duke  of  Gloster ;  — 
And  George,  of  Clarence:  —  Warwick,  as  ourself. 
Shall  do  and  undo  as  him  pleaseth  best. 

Rich.  Let  me  be  Duke  of  Clarence,  George  of  Gloster; 
For  Gloster's  dukedom  is  too  ominous. 

War.  Tut,  that's  a  foolish  observation  : 
Richard,  be  Duke  of  Gloster.     Now  to  London, 
To  see  these  honors  in  possession.  \E.veunt. 

ACT  in. 

Scene  L     A  chase  in  iJw  north  of  En<^land. 

Enter  two  Keepers,  with  cross-ho-a<s  in  their  hands. 

First  Keep,  Under  this  thick-grown  brake  we'll  shroud 
ourselves ; 
For  through  this  laund  anon  the  deer  will  come; 
And  in  this  covert  will  we  make  our  stand, 
Culling  the  principal  of  all  the  deer. 

Sec.  Keep.   I'll  stay  above  the  hill,  so  both  may  shoot. 

First  Keep.  That  cannot  be  ;  the  noise  of  thy  cross-bow 
'Will  scare  the  herd,  and  so  my  shoot  is  lost. 
Here  stand  we  both,  and  aim  we  at  the  best : 
And,  for  the  time  shall  not  stem  tedious, 
K.H.V1.37.]  I.  369. 


Acinic  THE   THIRD  PART  CF  {Scetu  t. 

I'll  tell  thee  what  befell  me  on  a  day 

In  this  self-place  where  now  we  mean  to  stand. 

Sec.  Keep.  Here  comes  a  man  ;  let's  stay  till  he  be  past. 

Enter  King  Henry,  disguised;  ivith  a  prayer-book. 

K.  Hen.  From  Scotland  am  I  stol'n,  even  of  pure  love, 
To  greet  mine  own  land  with  my  wishful  sight. 
No,  Harry,  Harry,  'tis  no  land  of  thine  ; 
Thy  place  is  fill'd,  thy  scepter  wrung  from  thee. 
Thy  balm  wash'd  off  wherewith  thou  wast  anointed : 
No  bending  knee  will  call  thee  Cassar  now, 
No  humble  suitors  press  to  speak  for  right, 
No,  not  a  man  comes  for  redress  of  thee  ; 
For  how  can  I  help  them,  and  not  myself? 

First  Keep.  Ay,, here's  a  deer  whose  skin's  a  keeper's 
fee  : 
This  is  the  quondam  king ;  let's  seize  upon  him. 

K.  Hen.  Let  me  embrace  thee,  sour  adversity; 
For  wise  men  say  it  is  the  wisest  course. 

Sec.  Keep.  Why   linger   we  ?     let   us   Iny   hands  upon 
him. 

First  Keep.  Forbear  awhile  ;  we'll  hear  a  little  more. 

K.  Hen.  My  queen  and  son  are  gone  to  France  for  aid  ; 
And,  as  I  hear,  the  great-commanding  Warwick 
Is  thither  gone,  to  crave  the  French  king's  sister 
To  wife  for  Edward  :  if  this  news  be  true, 
Poor  queen  and  son,  your  labor  is  but  lost ; 
For  Warwick  is  a  subtle  orator. 
And  Louis  a  prince  soon  won  with  moving  words. 
By  this  account,  then,  Margaret  may  win  him  ; 
For  she's  a  woman  to  be  pitied  much  : 
Her  sighs  will  make  a  battery  in  his  breast; 
Her  tears  will  pierce  into  a  marble  heart  ; 
The  tiger  wilt  be  mild  whiles  she  doth  mourn  ; 
And  Nero  will  be  tainted  with  remorse. 
To  hear  and  see  her  plaints,  her  brinish  tears. 
Ay,  but  she's  come  to  beg  ;  Warwick,  to  give  : 
She,  on  his  left  side,  craving  aid  for  Henry; 
He,  on  his  right,  asking  a  wife  for  Edward. 
She  weeps,  and  says  her  Henry  is  depos'd ; 
He  smiles,  and  says  his  Edward  is  install'd  ; 
That  she,  poor  wretch,  for  grief  can  speak  no  more; 
Whiles  Warwick  tells  iiis  title,  smooths  the  wrong, 

I.  270.  [K.H.V1.38, 


ActTTi:\  KIKG  HEWRY  VI.  \Scene  t. 

Inferreth  arguments  of  mightv  strength, 

And  in  conclusion  wins  the  king  from  her, 

With  promise  of  his  sister,  and  what  else, 

To  strengthen  and  support  King  Edward's  place. 

O  Margaret,  thus  'twill  be  ;  and  thou,  poor  soul, 

Art  then  forsaken,  as  thou  went'st  forlorn  ! 

Sec.  Keep.  Say,  what  art  thou  that  talk'st  of  kings  and 
queens  ? 

K.  Hen.    More  than     I   seem,    and    less   than   I  was 
born  to  : 
A  man  at  least,  for  less  I  should  not  be ; 
And  men  may  talk  of  kings,  and  why  not  I  ? 

Sec.  Keep.    Ay,    but    tliou    talk'st  as   if    thou  wert  a 
king. 

K.  He?}.  \Vh\-,  so  I  am  —  in  mind  ;  and  that's  enough. 

Sec.  Keep.    But,    if   thou    be    a    king,    where    is    thy 
crown  ? 

K.  Hen.  My  crown  is  in  my  heart,  not  on  my  head  ; 
Not  deck'd  with  diamonds  and  Indian  stones, 
Nor  to  be  seen  :  my  crown  is  call'd  content, — 
A  crown  it  is  that  seldom  kings  enjoy. 

Sec.  Keep.  Well,  if  }ou   be  a  king  crown 'd  with  con- 
tent. 
Your  crown  content  and  you  must  be  contented 
To  go  along  with  us  ;  for,  as  w:e  think, 
You  are  the  king  King  Edward  hath  depos'd  ; 
And  we  his  subjects,  sworn  in  all  allegiance. 
Will  apprehend  you  as  his  enemy. 

A'.  Hen.  But  did  you  never  swear,  and  break  an  oath  ? 

Sec.  Keep.  No,  never  such  an  oath  ;  nor  will  not  now. 

K.  Hen.    Where  did  you  dwell  when  I  was  King  of 
England  ? 

Sec.  Keep.  Here  in  this  country,  where  we  now  remain. 

K.  Hen.  I  was  anointed  king  at  nine  months  old; 
My  father  and  my  grandfather  were  kings  ; 
And  you  were  sworn  true  subjects  unto  me  : 
And  tell  me,  then,  have  vou  not  broke  your  oaths.? 

First  Keep.  No  ; 
For  we  were  subjects  but  while  you  were  king. 

A'.  Hen.  Why.  am  1  dead  ?  do  I  not  breathe  a  man  ? 
Ah,  simple  men,  you  know  not  what  you  swear  ! 
Look,  as  I  blow  this  feather  from  my  face, 
And  as  the  air  blows  it  to  me  again, 

1C.H.V1.39.]  I.  371. 


/.flll.l  THE  THIRD  FART  OF  [Scene  II. 

Obeying  with  my  wind  when  I  do  blow, 
And  yielding  to  another  when  it  blows, 
Commanded  always  by  the  greater  gust; 
Such  is  the  lightness  of  you  common  men. 
But  do  not  break  your  oaths  ;  for  of  that  sin 
My  mild  entreaty  shall  not  make  you  guilty. 
Go  where  you  will,  the  king  shall  be  commanded  ; 
And  be  you  kings  ;  command,  and  I'll  obey. 

FiYst  Keep.  We  are  true  subjects  to  the  king.  King 
Edward. 

K.  He?i.  So  would  you  be  again  to  Henry, 
If  h»were  seated  as  King  Edward  is. 

First  Keep.  We  charge  you,  in  God's  name,  and  in  the 
king's. 
To  go  with  us  unto  the  officers. 

K.  Hen.  In  God's  name,  lead  ;    your  king's  name  be 
obey'd  : 
And  what  God  will,  that  let  your  king  perform ; 
And  what  he  will,  I  humbly  yield  unto.  [^Exeunt. 

Scene  II.     London.  A  room  in  the  palace. 

Enter  King  EDWARD,  Gloster,  Clarence,  and 
Lady  Grey. 

K.  Edw.   Prother  of  Gloster,  at  Saint  Alban's  field 
This  lady's  husband,  Sir  John  Grey,  was  slain, 
His  lands  then  seiz'd  on  by  the  conqueror: 
Her  suit  is  now  to  repossess  those  lands  ; 
Which  we  in  justice  cannot  well  deny. 
Because  in  quarrel  of  the  house  of  York 
The  worthy  gentleman  did  lose  his  life. 

GIo.  Your  highness  shall  do  well  to  grant  her  suit  ; 
It  were  dishonor  to  deny  it  her. 

K.  Edw.  It  were  no  less;  but  yet  I'll  make  a  pause. 

GIo.  [aside  to  Clar.^^  Yea,  is  it  so.^" 
I  see  the  lady  hath  a  thing  to  grant. 
Before  the  king  will  grant  her  humble  suit. 

C/(ir.  [aside  to  GIo.\  He  knows  the  game  :  how  true  he 
keeps  the  w  ind  ! 

GIo.  [aside  to  Clar.\  Silence  ! 

K.  Edit'.  Widow,  we  will  consider  of  your  suit; 
And  come  some  other  time  to  know  our  mind. 

L.  Grey.  Right  gracious  lord,  I  cannot  brook  delay: 

I.  272.  [K.H.VI.40b 


A ct  I!/.']  fCIXG  HEXR  y  IV.  [Scene  Ji. 

May  't  please  your  highness  to  resolve  me  now ; 
And  what  your  ])leasure  is  shall  satisl\  ina. 

c7/().  [(is/\/f.\  Ay,  widow?  then  I'll  warrant  you  all  yo«r 
lands. 
An  if  what  pleases  him  shall  pleasure  you. 
Fight  closer,  or,  good  faith,  you'll  catch  a  blow. 

C//ir.  [aside  to  G/o.\   I  fear  her  not,  unless  she  chance 

to  fall. 
u/o.  \(isi</c  to  Clar.\    God   forl)id    that  I  for  he'll  tal«e 

vantages. 
A'.  Eihv.  How  manv  children   hast  thou,  widow?  tell 

me. 
Clar.  \asidt'  to  Glo.\   I  think  he  means  to  beg  a  child  of 

her. 
Glo.  \aside  to  Clar.  \   Nay,  whip  mc,  then  ;  he'll   rather 

give  her  two. 
L.  Grey.  Three,  my  most  gracious  lord. 
Glo.  \aside\  You  shall  have  four,  if  you'll  be  rul'd  by  him. 
K.  Ediv.    'Twere   pity   they  should    lose  their   father's 

lands. 
L.  Grey.  Be  pitiful,  dread  lord,  and  grant  it,  then. 
K.Edw.  Lords,  give  us  leave:   I'll  try  this  widow's  wit. 
Glo.  \asidc\  Ay,  good  leave  have  you  ;  for  you  will  have 
leave, 
rill  youth  take  leave,  and  leave  you  to  the  crutch. 

I  Ret  ires  ivith  Clarence. 
K.Edw.  Nowtell  me,  madam,  do  you  love  your  children  ? 
L.  Grey.  Ay,  full  as  dearly  as  I  love  myself. 
K.  Edw.  And  would  you  not  do  much  to  do  them  good  ? 
L.  Grey.  To  do  them  good,  I  would  sustain  some  harm. 
K.Edw.  Then  get  your  husband's  lands,  to  do  them 

good. 
L,  Grey.  Therefore  1  came  unto  your  majesty. 
K.  Edw.  I'll  tell  you  how  these  lands  are  to  be  got. 
L.  Grey.    So    shall    you    bind    me    to    your   highness' 

service. 
K.  Edw.  'What  service  wilt  thou  do  n.e,  if  I  gi\e  them  ? 
L.  Grey.  What  you  command,  that  rests  in  me  to  do. 
K.  Edw.  But  you  will  take  exceptions  to  my  boon. 
L.  Grey.  No,  gracious  lord,  except  I  cannot  do  it. 
K.  Edw.  Ay,  but  thou  canst  do  what  I  mean  to  ask. 
L.  Grey.  Why.  then  I   will   do  wliwt  your  grace  com- 
mands. 

*.H.VI.4I.]  1.   27j- 


Act  III. ^  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  IScene  II. 

Glo.  [aside  to  C7a/-.]   He  plies  her  hard  ;  and  much  rain 

wears  the  marble. 
C/ar.  [cis/(/f  to  Glo.\  As  red  as  fire  !  nay,  then  her  wax 

must  melt. 
L.  Grey.  Why  stops  my  lord  ?    shall    1    not    hear  my 

task  ? 
K.  Edw.  An  easy  task ;  'tis  but  to  love  a  king. 
L.  Grey.  That's  soon  perform 'd,  because  1  am  a  subject. 
K.  Edw.  Why,  then,  thy  husband's  lands  I  freely  give 

thee. 
L.  Grey.  I  take  my  leave  with  many  thousand  thanks. 
Glo.  {aside  to  CArr.]  The  match  is  made;  she  seals  it 

with  a  court 'sy. 
K.  Edw.  But  stay  thee, — 'tis  the  fruits  of  love  I  mean. 
L.  Grey.  The  fruits  of  love  I  mean,  my  loving  liege. 
K.  Edw.  Ay,  but,  I  fear  me,  in  another  sense. 
What  love,  think'st  thou,  I  sue  so  much  to  get.'^ 

L.  Grey.    My  love  till  death,  my  humble  thanks,  my 
prayers ; 
That  love  which  virtue  begs,  and  virtue  grants. 

K.  Edw.  No,  by  my  troth,  I  did  not  mean  such  love. 
L.  Grey.  Why,  then  you  mean  not  as  I  thought  you  did. 
K.  Edw.  But  now  you  partly  may  perceive  my  mind. 
L.  Grey.  My  mind  will  never  grant  what  I  perceive 
Your  highness  aims  at,  if  I  aim  aright. 

K.  Edw.  To  tell  thee  plain,  I  aim  to  lie  with  thee. 
L.  Grey.  To  tell  you  plain,  I  had  rather  lie  in  prison. 
K.  Edw.   Why,  then  thou  shalt  not  have  thy  husband's 

lands. 
L.  Grey.  Why,  then  mine  honesty  shall  be  my  dower ; 
For  by  that  loss  I  will  not  purchase  them. 

K.  Edw.  Therein  thou  wrong'st  thv  children  mightily. 
L.  Grey.  Herein  your  highness  robs  both  them  and  me. 
But,  mighty  lord,  this  merry  inclination 
Accords  not  with  the  sadness  of  my  suit : 
Please  you  dismiss  me,  either  with  "  ay  "  or  "  no." 

K.  Edw.  Ay,  if  thou  wilt  say  "  ay  "  to  my  request ; 
No,  if  thou  dost  say  "  no  "  to  my  demand. 

L.  Grey.  Then,  no,  my  lord.    My  suit  is  at  an  end. 
Glo.  [aside  to  Clar.\    The   widow  likes  him   not,  she 

knits  her  brows. 
Clar.  [aside  to  Glo.^  He  is  the  bluntest  wooer  in  Christ- 
endom. 

I.  274.  [K.H.V1.42. 


Act  HI.]  KING  HENRY  Vt.  [Scene// 

K.  Edw.  \asidt'i\   Her  looks  do  argue  her  replete  with 
modesty ; 
Her  words  do  show  her  wit  incomparable; 
All  her  perfections  challenge  sovereignty : 
One  way  or  other,  she  is  for  a  king  ; 
And  she  shall  be  my  love,  or  else  mv  queen. — 
Say  that  King  Edward  take  thee  for  his  queen  ? 

L.  Grey.   'Tis  better  said  than  done,  my  gracious  lord  : 
I  am  a  subject  tit  to  jest  withal, 
But  far  unfit  to  be  a  sovereign. 

A'.  Echv.  Sweet  widow,  by  my  state  I  swear  to  thee 
I  speak  no  more  than  what  my  soul  intends; 
And  that  is,  to  enjoy  thee  for  my  love. 

L.  Grey.  And  that  is  more  than  I  will  yield  unto  : 
I  know  I  am  too  mean  to  be  your  queen, 
And  yet  too  good  to  be  your  concubine. 

K.  Edw.  You  cavil,  widow  :  I  did  mean,  my  queen. 

L.  Grey.  'Twill  grieve  your  grace  my  sons  should  call 
you  father. 

K.  Edw.  No  more  than  when  my  daughters  call  thee 
mother. 
Thou  art  a  widow,  and  thou  hast  some  children ; 
And,  by  God's  mother,  I,  being  but  a  bachelor. 
Have  other  some  :  why,  'tis  a  happy  thing 
To  be  the  father  unto  many  sons. 
Answer  no  more,  for  thou  shalt  be  my  queen. 

Glo.  \aside  to  Clar.\  The  ghostly  father  now  hath  done 
his  shrift. 

Clar.  [aside  to  G/o.]   When  he  was  made  a  shriver, 
'twas  for  shift. 

A'.  Edw.  Brothers,  you  muse  what  chat  we  two  have  had, 

Glo.  The  widow  likes  it  not,  for  she  looks  sad. 

K.  Edw.  You'd  think  it  strange  if  1  should  marry  her. 

Clar.  To  whom,  my  lord  } 

K.  Edw.  Why,  Clarence,  to  myself. 

Glo.  That  would  be  ten  days'  wonder  at  the  least. 

Clar.  That's  a  day  longer  than  a  wonder  lasts. 

Glo.  By  so  much  is  the  wonder  in  extremes. 

K.  Edw.  Well,  jest  on,  brothers :  I  can  tell  you  both 
Her  suit  is  granted  for  her  husband's  lands. 

En/er  a  Nobleman, 

Nob.  My  gracious  lord,  Henry  your  foe  is  taken, 

K  H. VI. 43.1  I.    275. 


/■til/.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene//. 

And  brought  as  prisoner  to  your  palace-gate, 

A'.  iLt/zL'.  See  that  he  be  convey'd  unto  the  Tower:  — 

And  go  we,  brothers,  to  the  man  that  took  him, 

To  question  of  his  apprehension. — 

Widow,  go  you  along:  —  lords,  use  her  honorably. 

\E.xeu7it  exit  except  Gloster, 
Glo.  Ay,  Edward  will  use  women  honorably. — 

Would  he  were  wasted,  marrow,  bones,  and  all. 

That  from  his  loins  no  hopeful  branch  may  spring, 

To  cross  me  from  the  golden  time  I  look  for ! 

And  yet,  between  my  soul's  desire  and  me  — 

The  lustful  Edward's  title  buried  — 

Is  Clarence,  Henry,  and  his  son  young  Edward, 

And  all  th'  unlook'd-for  issue  of  their  bodies. 

To  take  their  rooms,  ere  I  can  place  myself : 

A  cold  premeditation  for  my  purpose ! 

Why,  then,  1  do  but  dream  on  sovereignty ; 

Like  one  that  stands  upon  a  promontory. 

And  spies  a  far-off  shore  where  he  would  tread. 

Wishing  his  foot  were  equal  with  his  eye; 

And  chides  the  sea  that  sunders  him  from  thence. 

Saying,  he'll  lade  it  dry  to  have  his  way  ! 

So  do  I  wish  the  crown,  being  so  far  off ; 

And  so  I  chide  the  means  that  keeps  me  from  it; 

And  so  I  say,  I'll  cut  the  causes  off, 

Flattering  me  with  impossibilities. — 

My  eye's  too  quick,  my  heart  o'erwems  too  much, 

Unless  my  hand  and  strength  could  ecjual  them. 

Well,  say  there  is  no  kingdom,  then,  for  Richard; 

What  other  pleasure  can  the  world  alford? 

I'll  make  my  heaven  in  a  lady's  lap, 

And  deck  my  body  in  gay  ornaments, 

And  witch  sweet  ladies  with  my  words  and  looks. 

O  miserable  thought !  and  more  unlikely 

Than  to  accomplish  twenty  golden  crowns! 

Why,  love  forswore  me  in  my  mother's  womb : 

And,  for  I  should  not  deal  in  her  soft  laws, 

She  did  corrujjt  frail  nature  with  some  bribe. 

To  shrink  mine  arm  up  like  a  wither'd  shrub; 

To  make  an  envious  mountain  on  my  back, 

Where  sits  deformity  to  mock  my  body  ; 

To  shape  my  legs  of  an  unequal  size  ; 

To  disproportion  me  in  every  part, 

1-   -'7('.  (lt.H.VI.44. 


Actlir.^  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  11/. 

Like  to  a  chaos,  or  an  unlick'd  bear-whelp 
That  carries  no  impression  like  the  dam. 
And  am  I,  then,  a  man  to  be  bclov'd? 

0  monstrous  fault,  to  harbor  such  a  thought! 
Then,  since  this  earth  affords  no  joy  to  me, 
But  to  command,  to  check,  to  o'erbear  such 
As  are  of  belter  person  than  myself, 

I'll  make  jny  hea\en  to  dream  upon  the  crown, 

And,  whiles  I  live,  t'  account  this  world  but  hell, 

Until  my  head,  that  this  mis-shap'd  trunk  bears, 

Be  round  impaled  with  a  glorious  crown. 

And  yet  I  know  not  how  to  get  the  crown. 

For  many  lives  stand  between  me  and  home : 

And  I  —  like  one  lost  in  a  thorny  wood, 

That  rents  the  thorns,  and  is  rent  with  the  thorns, 

Seeking  a  way,  and  straying  fnjm  the  way; 

Not  knowing  how  to  hnd  the  open  air. 

But  toiling  despera.ely  t    find  it  out  — • 

Torment  myself  to  catch  the  English  crown  : 

And  from  that  torment  I  will  free  myself, 

Or  hew  my  way  out  with  a  bloody  ax. 

Why,  I  can  smile,  and  murder  whiles  I  smile ; 

And  cry  "  Content  "  to    nat  which  grieves  my  heart; 

And  wet  my  cheeks  with  artificial  tears, 

And  frame  my  face  to  all  occasions : 

I'll  drown  more  sailors  than  the  mermaid  shall; 

I'll  slay  more  gazers  than  the  basilisk; 

I'll  play  the  orator  as  well  as  Nestor; 

Deceive  more  slily  than  Ulysses  could  ; 

And,  like  a  Sinon,  take  another  Troy  : 

1  can  add  colors  to  the  chameleon  ; 
Change  shapes  with  Proteus  for  achantages; 
And  set  the  murderous  Machiavel  to  school. 
Can  I  do  this,  and  cannot  get  a  crown  } 

Tut,  were  it  further  off,  I'll  pluck  it  down.  [Exit. 

Scene  III.     France.     A  room  in  the  palace. 

Flourish.     Enter  Louis  the  French  king,  and    Lady 

Bona,  attended  ;  the  King  takes  his  state.      Then 

enter  Queen  Margare'I  ,  Prince  Edward, 

and  the  Earl  of  OXFORD. 

K.  Leu.  [rising]    Fair    Queen    of    England,    worthy 

Margaret, 

K.H.VI,45.]  1.   277. 


Act  I/I.^  THl^   TriJr.D  FAKT  OF  {Scene  III. 

Sit  down  with  us :  it  ill  befits  thy  state 

And  birth,  that  thou  shouldst  stand  while  Louis  doth  sit. 

Q.  Mar.  No,  mighty  King  of  France :  now  Margaret 
Must  strike  her  sail,  and  learn  awhile  to  serve, 
Where  kings  command.     I  was,  I  must  confess, 
Great  Albion's  queen  in  former  golden  days: 
But  now  mischance  hath  trod  my  title  down, 
And  with  dishonor  laid  me  on  the  ground  ; 
Where  I  must  take  like  seat  unto* my  fortune, 
And  to  my  humble  state  conform  myself. 

K.  Lou.  Why,  say,  fair  queen,  whence  springs  this  <V  ?p 
despair  ? 

Q.  Mar.  From  such  a  cause  as  fills  mine  eyes  with 
tears. 
And  stops  my  tongue,  while  heart  is  drown 'd  in  cares. 

K.  Lou.  Whate'er  it  be,  be  thou  still  like  thyself, 
And  sit  thee  by  our  side  :  yield  not  thy  neck 

[Seafs  her  by  him. 
To  fortune's  yoke,  but  let  thy  dauntless  mind 
Still  ride  in  triumph  over  all  mischance. 
Be  plain,  Queen  Margaret,  and  tell  thy  grief ; 
It  shall  be  eas'd,  if  France  can  yield  relief. 

Q.  Alar.  Those   gracious   words    revive  my  drooping 
thoughts. 
And  give  my  tongue-tied  sorrows  leave  to  speak. 
Now,  therefore,  be  it  known  to  noble  Louis, 
That  Henry,  sole  possessor  of  my  love, 
Is,  of  a  king,  become  a  banish'd  man. 
And  forc'd  to  live  in  Scotland  a  forlorn  ; 
While  proud  ambitious  Edward  duke  of  York 
Usurps  the  regal  title  and  the  seat 
Of  England's  true-anointed  lawful  king. 
This  is  the  cause  that  I,  poor  Margaret, — 
With  this  my  son.  Prince  Edward,  Henry's  heir, — 
Am  come  to  crave  thy  just  and  lawful  aid ; 
And  if  thou  fail  us,  all  our  hope  is  done  : 
Scotland  hath  will  to  help,  but  cannot  help ; 
Our  people  and  our  peers  are  both  misled. 
Our  treasure  seiz'd,  our  soldiers  put  to  flight, 
And,  as  thou  seest,  ourselves  in  heavy  plight. 

K.  Lou.  Renowned    queen,    with    patience   calm    the 
storm, 
While  we  bethink  a  means  to  break  it  off. 

1.   278.  [K.H.VI.4«. 


A  tt  ni.]  KING  HENR  J '  FA  \!^eene  III. 

Q.  Mar.  The  more  we  stay,  the  stronger  grows  our  foe. 
K.  Lo7(.  The  more  1  stay,  the  more  I'll  succor  thee. 
Q.  Mar.  O,  but  iinpalieiice  waiteth  on  true  sorrow:  — 
And  see  where  comes  the  breeder  of  my  sorrow ! 

Efifer  Warwick,  attctuied. 

K.  Lou.  What's  he  approacheth  boldly  to  our  presence  ? 

Q.  Mar.  Our   Earl    of    Warwick,    Edward's    greatest 
friend. 

A'.  Lou.  Welcome,  brave  Warwick  !  What  brings  thee 
to  France  ? 
\Descendi7tg  from  Jiis  state.    (Juet'n  Margaret  rises. 

Q.  Mar.  [^as/de]  Ay,   now  begins  a  second  storm  to 
rise  ; 
For  this  is  he  that  moves  both  wind  and  tide. 

War.  From  worthy  Edward,  King  of  Albion, 
My  lord  and  sovereign,  and  thy  vowed  friend, 
I  come,  in  kindness  and  unfeigned  love,— 
First,  to  do  greetings  to  thy  royal  person ; 
And  then  to  crave  a  league  of  amity  ; 
And  lastly,  to  confirm  that  amity 
With  nuptial  knot,  if  thou  vouchsafe  to  grant 
That  virtuous  Lady  Bona,  thy  fair  sister, 
To  England's  king  in  lawful  marriage. 

Q.  Mar,  {^aside}   If  that  go  forward,  Henry's  hope  is 
done. 

War.  \to  Bona"\  And,  gracious  madam,  in  our  king's 
behalf, 
I  am  commanded,  with  your  leave  and  favor, 
Humbly  to  kiss  youi  hand,  and  with  my  tongue 
To  tell  the  passion  of  my  sovereign's  heart ; 
Where  fame,  late  entering  at  his  heedful  ears, 
Hath  plac'd  thy  beauty's  image  and  thy  virtue. 

Q.  Mar.  King    Louis,— and    Lady    Bona, —  hear    me 
speak, 
Before  you  answer  Warwick.     His  demand 
Springs  not  from  Edward's  well-meant  honest  love. 
But  from  deceit  bred  by  necessity ; 
For  how  can  tyrants  safely  govern  home, 
LInless  abroad  they  purchase  great  alliance? 
To  prove  him  tyrnnt  this  reason  may  sufifice, — 
That  Henry  liveth  still;  but  were  he  dead, 
Yet  here  Prince  Edward  stands,  King  Henry's  son. 
K.H.V1.47]  I.  279. 


Act  IIT.]  THE   THIRD  PARI  OF  [Scene  HI. 

Look,  iherefore,  Louis,  that  by  this  league  and  marriage 

Thou  draw  not  on  thy  danger  and  dishonor ; 

For  though  usurpers  sway  the  rule  awhile. 

Yet  heavens  are  just,  and  time  suppresseth  wrongs. 

War.  Injurious  Margaret  I 

Prince.  And  why  not  queen? 

War.  Because  thy  father  Henry  did  usurp  ; 
And  thou  no  more  art  prince  than  she  is  queen. 

Oxf.  Then  Warwick  disannuls  great  John  of  Gaunt. 
Which  did  subdue  the  greatest  part  of  Spain  ; 
And,  after  John  of  Gaunt,  Henry  the  Fourth, 
Whose  wisdom  was  a  mirror  to  the  wisest ; 
And,  after  that  wise  prince,  Henry  the  Fifth. 
Who  by  his  prowess  conquered  all  France  : 
From  these  our  Henry  lineally  descends. 

War.  Oxford,  how  haps  it,  in  this  smooth  discourse. 
You  told  not  how  Henry  the  Sixth  hath  lost 
All  that  which  Henry  the  Fifth  had  gotten  } 
Methinks  these  peers  of  France  should  smile  at  that. 
But  for  the  rest, —  you  tell  a  pedigree  ; 

Of  threescore  and  two  years  ;  a  silly  time 
To  make  prescription  for  a  kingdom's  worth. 

Oxf.  Why,   Warwick,   canst    thou    speak  against    thy 
liege. 
Whom  thou  obeyed'st  thirty  and  six  years, 
And  not  bewray  thy  treason  with  a  blush  } 

War.  Can  Oxford,  that  did  ever  fence  the  right, 
Now  buckler  falsehood  with  a  pedigree  } 
For  shame !  leave  Henry,  and  call  Edward  king. 

Oxf.  Call  him  my  king  by  whose  injurious  doom 
My  elder  brother,  the  Lord  Aubrey  Vere, 
Was  done  to  death  }  and  more  than  so,  my  father. 
Even  in  the  downfall  of  his  mellow'd  years. 
When  nature  brought  him  to  the  door  of  death  ? 
No,  Warwick,  no  ;  while  life  upholds  this  arm. 
This  arm  upholds  the  house  of  Lancaster. 

War.  And  I  the  house  of  York. 

K.  Lou.  Queen  Margaret,  Prince  Edward,  and  Oxford, 
Vouchsafe,  at  our  request,  to  stand  aside, 
While  I  use  further  conference  with  Warwick. 

Q.  Mar.  Heavens  grant  that  Warwick's  words  bewitch 
him  not ! 

{Retiring  with  the  Prince  and  Oxford, 

1.  ziio.  £k.k.ti.4S. 


Act///.]  K/NG  //EA'Ri-  I'l.  [Scene///. 

K,  Lou.  Now,  Warwick,  tell  me,  even  upon  thy  con- 
science, 
Is  Edward  your  true  king?  for  1  were  loth 
To  link  with  him  that  were  not  lawful  chosen. 

IVar.  Thereon  1  pawn  my  credit  and  mine  honor. 

A'.  Lou.  But  is  he  gracious  in  the  people's  eye? 

War.  The  more  that  Henry  was  unfortunate. 

K.  Lou.  Then  further, —  all  dissembling  set  aside, 
Tell  me  for  truth  the  measure  of  his  love 
Unto  our  sister  Bona. 

War.  Such  it  seems 

As  may  beseem  a  monarch  like  himself. 
Myself  have  often  heard  him  say  and  swear 
That  this  his  love  was  an  eternal  plant. 
Whereof  the  root  was  fix'd  in  virtue's  ground, 
The  leaves  and  fruit  maintain'd  with  beauty's  sun; 
Exempt  from  envy,  but  not  from  disdain. 
Unless  the  Lady  Bona  quit  his  pain. 

K.  Lou.  Now,  sister,  let  us  hear  your  firm  resolve. 

Bona.  Your  grant,  or  your  denial,  shall  be  mine  :  — 
[To  IVar.]  Yet  I  confess  that  often  ere  this  day. 
When  I  have  heard  your  king's  desert  recounted, 
Mine  ear  hath  tempted  judgment  to  desire. 

A'.  Lou.  Then,  Warwick,   thus, —  Our  sister  shall    be 
Edward's; 
And  now  forthwith  shall  articles  be  drawn 
Touching  the  jointure  that  your  king  must  make, 
Which  with  her  dowry  shall  be  counterpois'd. — ■ 
Draw  near.  Queen  Margaret,  and  be  a  witness 
That  Bona  shall  be  wife  to  th'  English  king. 

Prince.  To  Edward,  but  not  to  the  English  king. 

Q.  Mar.  Deceitful  Warwick  !  it  was  thy  device 
By  this  alliance  to  make  void  my  suit : 
Before  thy  coming,  Louis  was  Henry's  friend. 

A'.  Lori.  And  still  is  friend  to  him  and  Margaret : 
But  if  your  title  to  the  crown  be  weak, — 
As  may  appear  by  Edward's  good  success, — 
Then  'tis  but  reason  that  I  be  releas'd 
From  giving  aid  which  late  I  promised. 
Yet  shall  you  have  all  kindness  at  my  hand 
That  your  estate  requires,  and  mine  can  yield. 

War.  Henry  now  lives  in  Srrtland  at  his  ease, 
Where  having  nothing,  nothing  ciin  he  lose. 

K.H.V1.49.]  1.  281. 


Aci  III.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene  HI, 

And  as  for  vou  yourself,  our  quondam  queen, 

You  have  a  father  able  to  maintain  you  ; 

And  better  t  were  you  troubled  him  than  France. 

Q.  Mar.   Peace,    impudent    and   shameless    Warwick ! 
peace, 
Proud  setter-up  and  puller-down  of  kings ! 
I  will  not  hence  till,  with  my  talk  and  tears. 
Both  full  of  truth,  I  make  King  Louis  behold 
Thy  sly  conveyance  and  thy  lord's  false  love  ; 
For  both  of  you  are  birds  of  selfsame  feather. 

[^A  /loru  sounded  ivithin, 

K.  Lou.  Warwick,  this  is  some  post  to  us  or  thee. 

Enter  a  Messenger, 

Mess.  \to  IVar.]  My  lord  ambassador,  these  letters  are 
for  you. 
Sent  from  your  brother,  Marquess  Montague  :  — 
[  To  Lout's]  These  from  our  king  unto  your  majesty  :  — 
[  To  Margaret]  And,  madam,  these  for  you  ;  from  whom 
I  know  not.  [  They  all  read  their  letters. 
Oxf,  I  like  it  well  that  our  fair  queen  and  mistress 
Smiles  at  her  news,  while  Warwick  frowns  at  his. 

Prince.  Nay,    mark    how    Louis    stamps,    as  he  were 
nettled  : 
I  hope  all's  for  the  best. 

K.Lou.  Warwick,  what  are  thy  news?  —  and  yours, 

fair  queen  } 
Q.  Mar.     Mine  such  as  fill  my  heart  with  unhop'djoys 
IVar.    Mine  full  of  sorrow  and  heart's  discontent. 
K.  Lou.  What !  has  your  king  married  the  Lady  Grey  i 
And  now,  to  soothe  your  forgery  and  his, 
Sends  me  a  paper  to  persuade  me  patience  .' 
Is  this  th'  alliance  that  he  seeks  with  France  .' 
Dare  he  presume  to  scorn  us  in  this  manner  ? 

Q.  Mar.  I  told  your  majesty  as  much  before  : 
This  proveth  Edward's  love  and  Warwick's  honesty. 

War.  King  Louis,  I  here  protest,  in  sight  of  heaven. 
And  by  the  hope  I  have  of  heavenly  bliss. 
That  I  am  clear  from  this  misdeed  of  Edward's, — 
No  more  my  king,  for  he  dishonors  me. 
But  most  himself,  if  he  could  see  his  shame. 
Did  I  forget  that  by  the  house  of  York 
My  father  came  untimely  to  his  death? 

1.  282.  [K.H.V1.50 


4ri  ///.]  A'/XC  I/EXRV  VI.  [Scene  III. 

Did  I  let  pass  th'  abuse  done  to  my  niece? 
Did  I  impale  him  with  the  regal  crown  ? 
Did  I  put  Henry  from  his  native  right  ? 
And  am  I  guerdon'd  at  the  last  with  shame? 
Shame  on  himself !  for  my  desert  is  honor: 
And,  to  repair  my  honor  lost  for  him, 
I  here  renounce  him,  and  return  to  Henry. — 
My  noble  queen,  let  former  grudges  pass, 
'  And  henceforth  I  am  thy  true  servitor : 
I  will  revenge  his  wrong  to  Lady  Bona, 
And  replant  Henry  in  his  former  state. 

Q.  Mar.  Warwick,  these  words  have  turn'd  my  hate  to 
love  ; 
And  I  forgive  and  quite  forget  old  faults. 
And  joy  that  thou  becom'st  King  Henry's  friend. 

War.  So  much  his  friend,  ay,  his  unfeigned  friend. 
That,  if  King  Louis  vouchsafe  to  furnish  us 
With  some  few  bands  of  chosen  soldiers, 
I'll  undertake  to  land  them  on  our  coast. 
And  force  the  tyrant  from  his  seat  by  war. 
'Tis  not  his  new-made  bride  shall  succor  him : 
And  as  for  Clarence, —  as  my  letters  tell  me, 
He's  very  likely  now  to  fall  from  him, 
For  matching  more  for  wanton  lust  than  honor. 
Or  than  for  strength  and  safety  of  our  country. 

Bona.  Dear  brother,  how  shall  Bona  be  reveng'd 
But  by  thy  help  to  this  distressed  queen  .'' 

(2-  Mar.  Renowned  prince,  how  shall  poor  Henry  live 
Unless  thou  rescue  him  from  foul  despair? 

Bona.  My  quarrel  and  this  English  cjueen's  are  one. 

War.   And  mine,  fair  Lady  Bona,  joins  with  yours. 

K.  Lou.  And  mine  with  hers  and  thine  and  Margaret's  : 
Therefore,  at  last,  I  firmly  am  resolv'd 
You  shall  have  aid. 

Q.  Mar.  Let  me  give  humble  thanks  for  all  at  once. 

K.  Lou.  Then,  England's  messenger,  return  in  post. 
And  tell  false  Edward,  thv  supposed  l.ing. 
That  Louis  of  France  is  sending  over  maskers 
To  revel  it  with  him  and  his  new  bride  : 
Thou  seest  what's  past, —  go  fear  thy  king  withal. 

Bona.  Tell  him,  in  hope  he'll  prove  a  widower  shortly, 
ril  wear  the  willow-garland  for  his  sake. 

K.H.VI.5I.]  1.     ■i-'i'i- 


Act  in.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  [Scent  f I  J. 

(2-  Mar.  Tell  him,  my  mourning-weerte  are  laid  aside, 
And  I  am  ready  to  put  armor  on. 

IVar.  Tell  him  from  me,  that  he  hath  done  me  wrong ; 
And  therefore  Til  uncrown  him  ere  't  be  long. 
There's  thy  reward  \Giving  a  purse]  :  be  gone. 

[  A>//  Messenger, 

K.  Lou.  But,  Warwick, 

Thou  and  Oxford,  with  five  thousand  men. 
Shall  cross  the  seas,  and  bid  false  Edward  battle; 
And,  as  occasion  serves,  this  noble  queen 
And  prince  shall  follow  with  a  fresh  supply. 
Yet,  ere  thou  go,  but  answer  me  one  doubt, — - 
What  pledge  have  we  of  thy  tirm  loyalty  } 

War.  This  shall  assure  my  constant  loyalty, — 
That  if  our  queen  and  this  young  prince  agree, 
I'll  join  my  eldest  daughter  and  my  joy 
To  him  forthwith  in  holy  wedlock-bands. 

Q.  Mar.  Yes,  I  agree,  and  thank  you  for  your  motion. — 
Son  Edward,  she  is  fair  and  virtuous  ; 
Therefore  delay  not,  give  thy  hand  to  Warwick ; 
And,  with  thy  hand,  thy  faith  irrevocable, 
That  only  Warwick's  daughter  shall  be  thine. 

Prince.  Yes,  I  accept  her,  for  she  well  deserves  it ; 
And  here,  to  pledge  my  vow,  I  give  my  hand. 

\Gh'es  his  hand  to  Warwick. 

K.Lou.  Why  stay  we  now.-*     These  soldiers  shall  be 
levied  ; 
And  thou.  Lord  Bourbon,  our  high-admiral, 
Shall  waft  them  o\'er  with  our  royal  fleet. — - 
I  lo<ng  till  Edward  fall  by  war's  mischance. 
For  mocking  marriage  with  a  dame  of  France. 

[Exeunt  alt  except   Warwick 

War.  I  came  from  Edward  as  ambassador, 
But  I  return  his  sworn  and  mortal  foe  : 
Matter  of  marriage  was  the  charge  he  gave  me, 
But  dreadful  war  shall  answer  his  demand. 
Had  he  none  else  to  make  a  stale  but  me  .'* 
Then  none  but  I  shall  turn  his  jest  to  sorrow. 
I  was  the  chief  that  rais'd  him  to  the  crown. 
And  I'll  be  chief  to  bring  him  down  again  : 
Not  that  I  pity  Henry's  misery. 
But  seek  revenge  on  Edward's  mockery.  [Exit. 

I.    284.  [k.H.VI.52. 


A ct  /y.]  KLVG  HRNR  V  J'l.  [Sent  t. 

ACT  IV. 
Scene  I.     London.     A  room  in  the  palace. 
Enter  Gloster,   Clarence,    Somerset,    and  Mon- 
tague. 
GIo.  Now  tell  me,  brother  Clarence,  what    think   you 
Of  this  new  marriage  with  the  Lady  Grey  ? 
Hath  not  our  brother  made  a  worthy  choice  ? 

Clar.  Alas,  you  know  'tis  far  from  hence  to  France ; 
How  could  he  stay  till  Warwick  made  return  ? 

Som.  iMy  lords,  forbear  this  talk  ;  here  comes  the  king. 

Glo.  And  his  well-chosen  bride. 

Clar.  1  mind  to  tell  him  plainly  what  I  think. 

Flourish.  ir;?^'r  King  Edward,  attended ;  Lady  Grey, 

as  Queen  ;  Pembroke,  Sjafford,  and  Hastings. 

K.  EduJ.  Now,  brother  of  Clarence,  how  like  you  our 
choice, 
That  you  stand  pensive,  as  half  malcontent  ? 

Clar.  As  well  as  Louis  of  France  or  th'  Earl  of  War- 
wick ; 
Which  are  so  weak  of  courage  and  in  judgment, 
That  they'll  take  no  offense  at  our  abuse. 

A'.  Edw.  Suppose  they  take  offense  without  a  cause, 
They  are  but  Louis  and  Warwick  :  I  am  Edward, 
Your  king  and  Warwick's,  and  must  have  my  will. 

Glo.  Ay,  and  shall  have  your  will,  because  our  king : 
Yet  hasty  marriage  seldom  proveth  well. 

K.  Edw.  Yea,  brother  Richard,  are  ^()u  offended  too? 

Glo.  Not  I  : 
No,  God  forbid  that  I  should  wish  them  sever'd 
Whom  God  hath  join'd  together;  ay,  and  'twere  pity 
To  sunder  them  that  yoke  so  well  together. 

K.  Edw.  Setting  your  scorns  and  your  mislike  aside. 
Tell  me  some  reason  why  the  Lady  Grey 
Should  not  become  my  wife  and  England's  queen  ;  — 
And  you  too,  Somerset  and  Montague, 
Speak  freely  what  you  think. 

Clar.  Then  this  is  mine  opinion, —  that  King  Louis 
Becomes  your  enemy  for  mocking  him, 
About  the  marriage  of  the  Lady  liona. 

Glo.  And  Warwick,  doing  what  you  gave  in  charge, 
Is  now  dishonored  by  this  new  marriage. 
K.H.V1.53.]  I.  285. 


Act /v.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  {Scene/. 

K.  Edio.  What  if  both  Louis  and  Warwick  be  appeas'd 
By  such  invention  as  I  can  devise  ? 

Mont.  Yet,  to  have  join'd  with  France  in  such  alliance 
Would  more  have  strengthen'd  this  our  commonwealth 
'Gainst  foreign  storms  than  any  home-bred   marriage. 

Hast.  Why,  knows  not  Montague  that  of  itself 
England  is  safe,  if  true  within  itself? 

Mont.  Yes;  but  the  safer  when  'tis  back'd  with  France. 

Hast.  'Tis  better  using  France  than   trusting    France  : 
Let  us  be  back'd  with  God,  and  with  the  seas 
Which  he  hath  given  for  fence  impregnable, 
And  with  their  helps  only  defend  ourselves ; 
In  them  and  in  ourselves  our  safety  lies. 

Clar.  For  this  one  speech  Lord  Hastings  well  deserves 
To  have  the  heir  of  the  Lord  Hungerford. 

K.  Edw.  Ay,  what  of  that  ?  it  was  my  will  and  grant  ; 
And  for  this  once  my  will  shall  stand  for  law. 

GIo.  And  yet  methinks  your  grace  hath  not  done  well 
To  give  the  heir  and  daughter  of  Lord  Scales 
Unto  the  brother  of  your  loving  bride  ; 
She  better  would  ha\e  fitted  me  or  Clarence  ; 
But  in  your  bride  you  bury  brotherhood. 

Clar.  Or  else  you  would  not  have  bestow'd  the  heir 
Of  the  Lord  Bonville  on  your  new  wife's  son, 
And  leave  your  brothers  to  go  speed  elsewhere. 

K.  Edw.  Alas,  poor  Clarence  !  is  it  for  a  wife 
That  thou  art  malcontent .''  I  will  provide  thee. 

Clar.  In  choosing  for  yourself,  you  show'd  your  judg- 
ment. 
Which  being  shallow,  you  shall  give  me  leave 
To  play  the  broker  in  mine  own  behalf ; 
And  to  that  end  I  shortly  mind  to  leave  you. 

K.  Edw.  Leave  me,  or  tarry,  Edward  will  be  king. 
And  not  be  tied  unto  his  brother's  will. 

Q.  Ell's.  My  lords,  before  it  pleas'd  his  majesty 
To  raise  my  state  to  title  of  a  queen. 
Do  me  but  right,  and  you  must  all  confess 
That  I  was  not  ignoble  of  descent ; 
And  meaner  than  myself  have  had  like  fortune. 
But  as  this  title  honors  me  and  mine, 
So  your  dislikes,  to  whom  I  would  be  pleasing, 
Do  cloud  my  joys  with  danger  and  with  sorrow. 

K.  Edw.  My  love,  forbear  to  fawn  upon  their  frowns  : 

I.  286.  [k,h.vi.54 


A ct  /; '. ]  KING  HEKR )'  17.  [Scent  J. 

What  danger  or  what  sorrow  can  befall  thee, 
So  long  as  Edward  is  thy  constant  friend, 
And  their  true  sovereign,  whom  they  must  obey! 
Nay,  whom  they  shall  obey,  and  love  thee  too, 
Unless  they  seek  for  hatred  at  my  hands  ; 
Which  if  they  do,  yet  will  I  keep  thee  safe, 
And  they  shall  feel  the  vengeance  of  my  wrath. 

G/o.  [as2'(/e]  I  hear,  yet  say  not  much,  but  think  the  more. 
Enter  a  Messenger. 

K.  Edw.  Now,  messenger,  what  letters  or  what  news 
From  France  ? 

Mess.  My  sovereign  liege,  no  letters  ;  and  few  words. 
But  such  as  1,  without  your  special  pardon, 
Dare  not  relate. 

K.  Edw.  Go  to,  we  pardon  thee  :  therefore,  in  brief. 
Tell  me  their  words  as  near  as  thou  canst  guess  them. 
What  answer  makes  King  Louis  unto  our  letters.' 

Mess.  At  my  depart,  these  were  his  very  words  : 
"  Go  tell  false  Edward,  thy  supposed  king, 
That  Louis  of  France  is  sending  over  maskers 
To  revel  it  with  him  and  his  new  bride." 

K.  Edw.  Is  Louis  so  brave  ?  belike  he  thinks  me  Henry.  • 
But  what  said  Lady  Bona  to  my  marriage  } 

Mess.  These  were  her  words,  utter'd  with  mild  disdain  ; 
"  Tell  him,  in  hope  he'll  prove  a  widower  shortly, 
I'll  wear  the  willow  garland  for  his  sake." 

K.  Edw.  I  blame  not  her,  she  could  say  little  less ; 
She  had  the  wrong.  But  what  said  Henry's  queen? 
For  I  have  heard  that  she  was  there  in  place. 

Mess.  "  Tell  him,"  ciuoth  she,    "  my  mourning-weeds 
are  done. 
And  I  am  ready  to  put  armor  on." 

A'.  Edw.  Belike  she  minds  to  play  the  Amazon. 
But  what  said  Warwick  to  these  injuries  ? 

Mess.  He,  more  incens'd  against  your  majesty 
Than  all  the  rest,  discharg'd  me  with  these  words : 
"Tell  him  from  me,  that  he  hath  done  me  wrong, 
And  therefore  I'll  uncrown  him  ere't  be  long." 

A'.  Edw.  Ha !  durst  the  traitor   breathe  out  so  proud 
words.' 
Well,  I  will  arm  me,  being  thus  forewarn 'd  : 
They  shall  have  wars,  and  pay  for  their  presumption. 
But  say,  is  Warwick  friends  with  Margaret  ? 

K,M.vi.55.]  ^-  *'*7- 


Act /I'.]  THE  rn/RD  PART  OP  [ScfUf/f. 

Mess.  Ay  gracious  sovereign  ;  they're  so  link'd  in  friend- 
ship, 
That  young  Prince  Edward  marries  Warwick's  daughter. 

C/ar.  Belike  the  eider ;  Clarence  will  have  the  younger. 
Now,  brother  king,  farewell,  and  sit  you  fast. 
For  I  will  hence  to  Warwick's  other  daughter; 
That,  though  I  want  a  kingdom,  yet  in  marriage 
I  may  not  prove  inferior  to  yourself. — 
You  that  love  me  and  Warwick  follow  me. 

[Ex/t  Clarence,  and  Somerset  follows, 

Glo.  {aside\  Not  I  : 
My  thoughts  aim  at  a  further  matter ;  I 
Stay  not  for  love  of  Edward,  but  the  crown. 

K.  Edw.  Clarence  and  Somerset  both  gone  to  War- 
wick ! 
Yet  am  I  arm'd  against  the  worst  can  happen ; 
And  haste  is  needful  in  this  desperate  case. — 
Pembroke  and  Stafford,  you  in  our  behalf 
Go  levy  men,  and  make  prepare  for  war ; 
They  are  already,  or  quickly  will  be,  landed  : 
Myself  in  person  will  straight  follow  yuu. 

{^Exeitnt  Pembroke  and  Stafford. 
But,  ere  I  go,  Hastings  and  Montague, 
Resolve  my  doubt.     You  twain,  of  all  the  rest. 
Are  near  to  Warwick  by  blood  and  by  alliance : 
Tell  me  if  you  love  Warwick  more  than  me  } 
If  it  be  so,  then  both  depart  to  him  ; 
I  rather  wish  you  foes  than  hollow  friends  : 
But  if  you  mind  to  hold  your  true  obedience, 
Give  me  assurance  with  some  friendly  vow. 
That  I  may  never  have  you  in  suspect. 

Mont.  So  God  help  Montague  as  he  proves  true  ! 

Hast.  And  Hastings  as  he  favors  Edward's  cause  ! 

K.  Ediv.  Now,  brother  Richard,  will  you  stand  by  us? 

Glo.   Ay,  in  despite  of  all  that  shall  withstand  you. 

K.  Edw.  Whv,  so !  then  am  I  sure  of  victory. 
Now  therefore  let  us  hence  ;  and  lose  no  hour. 
Till  we  meet  Warwick  with  his  foreign  power.    [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.     A  plain  in  Warwickshire. 
Enter  Warwick  and  Oxford,  with  French  and  other 
Forces. 
War.  Trust  me,  my  lord,  all  hithwto  goes  well ; 

I.  28S.  [k  h.vi.56.' 


Aci/K]  KIXG  HRSRY  VL  [Scene  I//. 

The  common  people  Ijy  numbers  swarm  to  us. — 
But  see  where  Somerset  and  Clarence  come  ! 

Enter  Clarp:ncF,  and  SOMERSET. 

Speak  suddenly,  my  lords, —  are  we  all  friends  ? 
Clar.  Fear  not  that,  my  lord. 

War.    Then    gentle    Clarence,    welcome    unto    War- 
wick ;  — 
And  welcome,  Somerset  :  —  I  hold  it  cowardice 
To  rest  mistrustful  where  a  noble  heart 
Hath  pawn'd  an  open  hand  in  sign  of  love  ; 
Else  might  I  think  that  Clarence,  Edward's  brother, 
Were  but  a  feigned  friend  to  our  proceedings : 
But   welcome,    sweet    Clarence  ;  my  daughter   shall    be 

thine. 
And  now  what  rests  but,  in  night's  coverture, 
Thy  brotheV  being  carelessly  encamp'd, 
His  soldiers  lurkiing  in  the  towns  about, 
And  but  attended  by  a  simple  guard, 
We  may  surprise  and  lake  him  at  our  pleasure  ? 
Our  scouts  have  found  th'  adventure  very  easy: 
That  as  Ulysses  and  stout  Diomede 
With  sleight  and  manhood  stole  to  Rhesus'  tents, 
And  brought  from  thence  the  Thracian  fatal  steeds; 
So  we,  well  cover'd  with  the  night's  black  mantle, 
At  unawares  may  beat  down  Edward's  guard, 
And  seize  himself;   I  say  not,  slaughter  him. 
For  I  intend  but  only  to  surprise  him. — 
You  that  will  follow  me  to  this  attempt 
Applaud  the  name  of  Henry  with  your  leader. 

[  'T hey  all  cry,  "  Henry  !  " 
Why.  then,  let's  on  our  way  in  silent  sort  : 
For  W^arwick  and  his  friends  God  and  Saint  George  ! 

[Excum/. 

Scene  in.     Edward's  camp,  near    Warunck. 

Enter  certain  Watchmen,  before   the   King's  tent. 
First  Watch.  Come  on,  my  masters,  each  man  take 
his  stand  : 
The  king,  by  this,  is  set  him  down  to  sleep. 
Second  Watch.  What,  will  he  not  to  bed  ? 
First  Watch.  Why,  ntj  ;  for  he  hath  made  a  solemn 
vow 

K.H.V1.57.]  I.  289. 


Aei/y.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  {Scene j II. 

Never  to  lie  and  take  his  natural  rest 

Till  Warwick  or  himself  be  quite  suppress 'd. 

Second  Watch.  To-morrow,   then,  belike  shall  be  the 
day. 
If  Warwick  be  so  near  as  men  report. 

Third  Watch.  But  say,  I  pray,  what  nobleman  is  that 
That  with  the  king  here  resteth  in  his  tent  ? 

First  Watch.  'Tis  the  Lord  Hastings,  the  king's  chief- 

est  friend. 
Third  Watch.  O,  is  it  so  ?     But  why  commands  the 
king 
That  his  chief  followers  lodge  in  towns  about  him, 
While  he  himself  keeps  here  in  the  cold  field  ? 

Second  Watch.  'Tis   the   more    honor,  because   more 

dangerous. 
Third    Watch.    Ay,  but  give  me  worship  and  quiet- 
ness ; 
I  like  it  better  than  a  dangerous  honor. 
If  Warwick  knew  in  what  estate  he  stands, 
'Tis  to  be  doubted  he  would  waken  him. 

First  Watch.  Unless  our  halberds  did  shut  up  his  pas- 
sage. 
Second  Watch.  Ay,  wherefore  else  guard  we  his  royal 
tent. 
But  to  defend  his  person  from  night-foes? 

Enter  Warwick,  Clarp:nce,  Oxford,  Somerset,  and 
Forces. 
War.  This  is  his  tent ;  and  see  where  stand  his  guard. 
Courage,  my  masters  !  honor  now  or  never ! 
But  follow  me,  and  Edward  shall  be  ours. 
First  Watch.  Who  goes  there  ? 
Second  Watch.  Stay,  or  thou  diest ! 

[  Warwick  and  the  rest  cry,  "  Warwick  ! 
Warwick  !  "  and  set  upon  the  Guard, 
who  fly, crying,  "  Arm  !  arm  !  "  War- 
wick  and  the  rest  foIlo%ving  them. 
Drums  beating  and  trumpets  sounding,  re-enter  WAR- 
WICK and  the  rest,  bringing  the  King  out  in  his 
gown,  sitting  in  a  chair, 
.   ,      Gloster  and  Hastings  arc  seen  flying. 
Som,  "What  are  they  that  fly  there  ? 

I.    pqo.  [K.H.VI.58. 


Act  IV.'S  KING  HENR  Y  I  I.  {Scene  III. 

War.  Richard  and  Ilasting^s  :  let  thenn  ^-^o ;  here's  the 

duke. 
K.  Edw.  The  duke  !  \Vh) ,  W^trwick,  when  we  parted 
last 
rhou  call'dst  me  king. 

War.  Ay,  buf  «he  case  is  alter'd  : 

When  you  disgrac'd  me  in  my  embassade, 
Then  I  degraded  you  fmrn  being  king. 
And  come  now  to  create  you  Duke  of  Vork. 
Alas,  how  should  you  govern  any  kingdom, 
That  know  not  how  to  use  ambassadors; 
Nor  how  to  be  contented  with  one  wife  ; 
Nor  how  to  use  your  brothers  brotherly  ; 
Nor  how  to  study  for  the  people's  welfare; 
Nor  how  to  shroud  j^ourself  from  enemies? 

K.  Edw.  Yea,  brother  of  Clarence,  art  thou  here  too  ? 
Nay,  then  I  see  that  Edward  needs  must  down. — 
Yet,  Warwick,  in  despite  of  all  mischance, 
Of  thee  thyself  and  all  thy  complices, 
Edward  will  always  bear  himself  as  king  : 
Though  fortune's  malice  o\erthrow  my  state. 
My  mind  exceeds  the  compass  of  her  wheel. 

War,  Then,  for  his  mind,  be  Edward  England's  king: 

[  Takes  ojf  /lis  crmvn. 
But  Henrv  now  shall  wear  the  English  crown, 
And  be  true  king  indeed  ;  thou  but  the  shadow. — ■ 
My  Lord  of  Somerset,  at  my  request, 
See  that  forthwith  Duke  Edward  be  conxey'd 
Unto  my  brother,  Archbishop  of  York. 
When  I  have  fought  with  Pembroke  and  his  fellows, 
I'll  follow  you,  and  tell  him  there  what  answer 
Louis  and  the  Lady  Bona  send  to  him. — 
Now,  for  a  while  farewell,  good  Duke  of  York. 

K.  Edw.  What    fates    impose,    that    men  must   needs 
abide  ; 
It  boots  not  to  resist  both  v.-ind  and  tide. 

[Ext/,  led  out :  Somerset  wi/Zi  /tint. 

Oxf.  What  now  remains,  mv  lords,  for  us  to  do, 
But  march  to  London  with  our  soldiers  ? 

War.  Ay,  that's  the  first  thing  that  we  h;t\e  to  do. 
To  free  King  Henry  from  imprisonment. 
And  see  him  seated  in  the  regal  throne.  {Exeunt. 

1C.H.V1.59.]  I.  291. 


Act  IV.]  THE  THIRD  P^RT  OF  \Scfne  IV. 

Scene  IV.     London.     A  room  tn  the  palace. 
Enter  Queen  Elizabeth  ami  Rivers. 

Riv.  Madam,  what  makes  you  in  this  sudden  change? 

(2-  Eliz.  Why,  brother  Rivers,  are  you  yet  to  learn 
What  late  misfortune  is  hefall'n  King  Edward  } 

Riv.  What,  loss  of  some  pitch'd  battle  against  War- 
wick .' 

Q.  Eliz.  No,  but  the  loss  of  his  own  royal  person. 

Riv.  Then,  is  my  sovereign  slain .'' 

(2-  Eliz.  Ay,  almost  slain,  for  he  is  taken  prisoner; 
Either  betray'd  by  falsehood  of  his  guard, 
Or  by  his  foe  surpris'd  at  unawares  : 
And,  as  I  further  have  to  understand. 
Is  new  committed  to  the  Bishop  of  York, 
Fell  Warwick's  brother,  and  by  that  our  foe. 

Riv.  These  news,  I  must  confess,  are  full  of  grief. 
Yet,  gracious  madam,  bear  it  as  you  may : 
Warwick  may  lose,  that  now  hath  won  the  day. 

Q.  Eliz.  Till  then,  fair  hope  must  hinder  life's  decay. 
And  I  the  rather  wean  me  from  despair. 
For  love  of  Edward's  offspring  in  my  womb : 
This  is  it  that  makes  me  bridle  passion. 
And  bear  with  mildness  my  misfortune's  cross  ; 
Ay,  ay,  for  this  I  draw-in  many  a  tear. 
And  stop  the  rising  of  blood-sucking  sighs, 
Lest  with  my  sighs  or  tears  I  blast  or  drown 
King  Edward's  fruit,  true  heir  to  th'  English  crown. 

Riv.  But,  madam,  where  is  Warwick,  then   become? 

Q.  Eliz.  I  am  informed  that  he  comes  towards  Lon- 
don, 
To  set  the  crown  once  more  on  Henry's  head  : 
Guess  thou  the  rest  ;  King  Edward's  friends  must  down. 
But,  to  prevent  the  tyrant's  violence, — 
For  trust  not  him  that  hath  once  broken  faith, — 
I'll  hence  forthwith  unto  the  sanctuary, 
To  save  at  least  the  heir  of  Edward's  right : 
There  shall  I  rest  secure  from  force  and  fraud. 
Come,  therefore,  let  us  fly  while  we  may  fly  : 
If  Warwick  take  us,  we  are  sure  to  die.  \Exeunt, 


1.    292.  (K.M.VI.60. 


Acf/y.}  KrXG  HEXRV  fl.  {Scene  r 

Scene  V.     A  park  near  MiddUi.im  C*stle  in  York 
shire. 

£■«/<?/- Gloster,  Hastings.  Sir  William   Sianlky, 
and  oi/iers. 

G/o.  Now,  my  Lord  Hastings  and  Sir  William  Stanley. 
Leave  off  to  wonder  why  I  drew  you  hitlier, 
Into  this  chiefest  thicket  of  the  park. 
Thus  stands  the  case  :  you  know  our  king,  my  brother, 
lb  prisoner  to  the  bishop  here,  at  whose  hands 
He  hath  good  usage  and  great  liberty ; 
And,  often  but  attended  with  weak  guard, 
Comes  hunting  this  way  to  disport  himself. 
1  have  advertis'd  him  by  secret  means, 
That  if  about  this  hour  he  make  this  way, 
Under  the  color  of  his  usual  game. 
He  shall  here  find  his  friends,  with  horse  and  men, 
To  set  him  free  from  his  captivity. 

Enter  King  Edward  and  a  Huntsman. 

Hunt.  This  way,  my  lord  ;    for  this  way  lies  the  game. 
K.  Ediv.  Nay,  this  way,  man  :  see  where  the  huntsmen 
stand. — 
Now,  brother  of  Gloster,  Lord  Hastings,  and  the  rest. 
Stand  you  thus  close,  to  steal  the  bishop's  deer.'' 

Glo.  Brother,  the  time  and  case  nquireth  haste: 
Your  horse  stands  ready  at  the  park-corner. 
K.  Edw.  But  whither  shall  we  then  ? 
Hast.  To  Lynn,  my  lord  ;    and    ship  from  thence   lo 

Flanders. 
Glo.  Well  guess'd,  believe  me  ;  for  that  was  my  mean- 
ing. 
K.  Edw.  Stanley,  1  will  requite  thy  forwardness. 
Glo.  But  wherefore  stay  we.''  'tis  no  time  to  talk. 
K.  Edw.  Huntsman,  what  say'st  thou  .'    wilt  thou  g« 

along? 
Hunt.  Better  do  so  than  tarry  and  be  hang'd. 
G/o.  Come  then,  away;  let's  ha'  no  more  ado. 
K.  Edw.  Bishop,  farewell  :  shield  thee  from  Warwick's 
frown  ; 
And  pray  that  I  may  repossess  the  crown.  [Exmnt. 


K.H.V1.61.]  1.  393. 


Aci/y.]  T:IE  THIRD  TART  OF  \Scene  W 

Scene  VI.     London.     A  room  in  the  Tower, 

Enter  King  Henry,  Clarence,  Warwick,    Somer- 
set, j/(?z^«_^  Richmond,  Oxford,  Montague, 
Lieutenant  of  the  Tower,  and  Attendants. 

K.  Hen.  Master  lieutenant,  now  that  God  and  friends 
Have  shaken  Edward  from  the  regal  seat, 
And  turn'd  my  captive  state  to  liberty, 
My  fear  to  hope,  my  sorrows  unto  joys, — 
At  our  enlargement  what  are  thy  due  fees.' 

Lieu.  Subjects  may  challenge  nothing  of  their  'sover- 
eigns ; 
But  if  an  humble  prayer  may  prevail, 
I  then  crave  pardon  of  your  majesty. 

K.  Hen.  For  what,  lieutenant  ?  for  well-using  me  ? 
Nay,  be  thou  sure  I'll  well  requite  thy  kindness. 
For  that  it  made  my  imprisonment  a  pleasure; 
Ay,  such  a  pleasure  as  incaged  birds 
Conceive,  when,  after  many  moody  thoughts. 
At  last,  by  notes  of  household  harmony. 
They  cjuite  forget  their  loss  of  liberty. — 
But,  Warwick,  after  God,  thou  sett'st  me  free, 
And  chiefly  therefore  I  thank  God  and  thee ; 
He  was  the  author,  thou  the  instrument. 
Therefore,  that  I  may  conquer  fortune's  spite, 
By  living  low,  where  fortune  cannot  hurt  me. 
And  that  the  people  of  this  blessed  land 
May  not  be  punish'd  with  my  thwarting  stars, — 
Warwick,  although  my  head  still  wear  the  crown, 
I  here  resign  my  government  to  thee. 
For  thou  art  fortunate  in  all  thy  deeds. 

War.  Your  grace  hath  still  been  fam'd  for  virtuous  ; 
And  now  may  seem  as  wise  as  virtuous. 
By  spying  and  avoiding  fortune's  malice. 
For  few  men  rightly  temper  with  the  stars : 
Yet  in  this  one  thing  let  me  blame  your  grace, 
For  choosing  me  when  Clarence  is  in  place. 

Clar.  No,  Warwick,  thou  art  worthy  of  the  sway. 
To  whom  the  heavens,  in  thy  nativity, 
Adjudg'd  an  olive-branch  and  laurel-crown. 
As  likely  to  be  blest  in  peace  and  war; 
And  therefore  1  yield  thee  my  free  consent. 

War.  And  I  choose  Clarence  only  for  protector. 

1.    2ii4.  [K.H.VI.62. 


Aci/k'.]  K/XG  HKKRV  rr.  [Scf„e  Tf. 

K.  He'll.  Warwick  and  Clarence,  give  me   both    your 
hands : 
Now  join  your  hands,  and  with  your  hands  your  hearts. 
That  no  dissension  hinder  government  : 
I  make  you  both  piolectors  of  this  land  ; 
While  I  myself  will  lead  a  private  life, 
And  in  devotion  spend  my  latter  days, 
To  sin's  rebuke  and  my  Creator's  praise. 

IVar.  What  answers  Clarence  to  his  sovereign's  will? 

C/ar.  That  he  consents,  if  Warwick  yield  consent; 
For  on  thy  fortune  I  repose  myself. 

IVar.  Why,  then,  though  loth,  yet  must  I  be  content ; 
We'll  yoke  together,  like  a  double  shadow 
To  Henry's  body,  and  supply  his  place ; 
I  mean,  in  bearing  weight  of  government, 
While  he  enjoys  the  honor  and  his  ease. 
And,  Clarence,  now  then  it  is  more  than  needful 
Forthwith  that  Edward  be  pronounc'd  a  traitor, 
And  all  his  lands  and  goods  be  confiscate. 

Clar.  What  else  }  and  that  succession  be  determin'd. 

War.  Ay,  therein  Clarence  shall  not  want  his  part. 

K.  Hen.  But,  with  the  tirst  of  all  your  chief  affairs, 
Let  me  entreat  —  for  I  command  no  more  — ■ 
That  Margaret  your  queen,  and  my  son  Edward, 
Be  sent  for,  to  return  from  France  with  speed  ; 
For,  till  I  see  them  here,  by  doubtful  fear 
My  joy  of  liberty  is  half  eclips'd. 

Clar.  It  shall  be  done,  my  sovereign,  with  all  speed. 

K.  Hen.  My  Lord  of  Somerset,  what  youth  is  that, 
Of  whom  you  seem  to  have  so  tender  care .'' 

Son.  My  liege,  it  is  young  Henry,  earl  of  Richmond. 

K.  Hen.  Come    hither,    England's     hope. —  If     secret 
powers 

\Lays  his  /i ami  on  his  head. 
Suggest  but  truth  to  my  divining  thoughts, 
This  pretty  lad  will  prove  our  country's  bliss. 
His  looks  are  full  of  peaceful  majesty  ; 
His  head  by  nature  fram'd  to  wear  a  crown, 
His  hand  to  wield  a  scepter  ;  and  himself 
Likely  in  time  to  bless  a  regal  throne. 
Make  much  of  him,  my  lords  ;  for  this  is  he 
Must  help  you  more  than  you  are  hurt  by  me. 

K.H.V1.63.]  I.  295. 


Act/i:]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  \Scene  VH. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 

War.  What  news,  my  friend  ? 

Mess.  That  Edward  is  escaped  from  your  brother, 
And  fled,  as  he  hears  since,  to  Burgund\ . 

War.  Unsavory  news  !  but  how  made  he  escape? 

Mess.  He  was  convey'd  by  Richard  duke  of  Gloster, 
And  the  Lord  Hastings,  who  attended  him 
In  secret  ambush  on  the  forest-side, 
And  from  the  bishop's  huntsmen  rescu'd  him  ; 
For  hunting  was  his  daih'  exercise. 

War.  My  brother  was  too  careless  of  his  charge. — 
But  let  us  hence,  my  sovereign,  to  provide 
A  salve  for  any  sore  that  may  betide. 

[^Exeiinf  a//  except  Somerset,  Jiiclunoiid,  and  Oxford, 

Soin.  My  lord,  I  like  not  of  this  flight  of  Edward's  ;  . 
For  doubtless  Burgundy  will  yield  him  help, 
And  we  shall  have  more  wars  before't  be  long. 
As  Henry's  late  presaging  prophecy 
Did  glad  my  heart  with  hope  of  this  )oung  Richmond, 
So  doth  my  heart  misgive  me,  in  these  conflicts 
What  may  befall  him,  to  his  harm  and  ours  : 
Therefore,  Lord  Oxford,  to  prevent  the  worst, 
Forthwith  we'll  send  him  hence  to  Brittany, 
Till  storms  be  passed  of  civil  enmitv. 

Oxf.  Ay,  for  if  Edward  repossess  the  crown, 
'Tis  like  that  Richmond  with  the  rest  shall  down. 

Som.  It  shall  be  so  ;  he  shall  to  Brittany. 
Come,  therefore,  let's  about  it  speedily.  [Exeunt, 

Scene  VII.     Before   York. 

Flourish.    Enter  King  Edward,  Glo.ster,  Hastings, 
and  Forces. 

K.Edw.  Now,  brother   Richard,    Lord  Hastings,  and 
the  rest, 
Yet  thus  far  fortune  maketh  us  amends. 
And  says,  that  once  more  I  shall  interchange 
My  waned  state  for  Henry's  regal  crown. 
Well  have  we  pass'd  and  now  repass'd  the  seas, 
And  brought  desiretl  hel])  from  Burgundy  ; 
What,  then,  remains,  we  being  thu?  arriv'd 

1.  396.  [K.H.V1.64. 


d  a  IV.  ]  KING  HENR  \ '  VI.  [  "cene  1  7/ 

From  Ravenspurg  haven  before  the  gates  of  York, 
But  that  we  enter,  as  into  our  dukedom  ? 

(J/o.  The  gates  made  fast. —  Brother,  I  h'ke  not  this; 
For  many  men  that  stumble  at  the  threshold 
Are  well  foretold  that  danger  lurks  within. 

A'.   Eehi'.    Tush,    man,    abodcments    must   not    now 
affright  us : 
By  fair  or  foul  means  we  must  enter  in, 
For  hither  will  our  friends  repair  to  us. 

Hast.  My  liege,  I'll  knock  once  more  to  summon  them. 

Enter,  on  the  walls,  the  Mayor  of  York  and  Aldermen. 

May.  My  lords,  we  were  forewarned  of  your  coming. 
And  shut  the  gates  for  safety  of  ourselves  ; 
For  now  we  owe  allegiance  unto  Henry. 

K.  Edn>.  But,  master  mayor,  if  Henrv  be  vour  king, 
Yet  Edward  at  the  least  is  Duke  of  York. 

Afay.  True,  my  good  lord  ;   I  know  you  for  no  less. 

K.  Edw.  Why,  and  I  challengenothingbut  my  dukedom, 
As  being  well  content  with  that  alone. 

Glo.  \aside\  But  when  the  fo.x  hath  once  got  in  his  nose. 
He'll  soon  find  means  to  make  the  body  follow. 

Hast.  Why,  master  mayor,  \\hy  stand  you  in  a  doubt  .•' 
Open  the  gates;  we  are  King  Henry's  friends. 

May.  Ay,  say  you  so  ?  the  gates  shall  then  be  open'd. 
\Exit,  n'ith  Aldcj-jiien,  a/wTe. 

Glo.  A  wise  stout  captain,  and  soon  persuaded  ! 

Hast.  The  good  old  man  would  fain  that  all  were  well, 
So  'twere  not  long  of  him  ;  but  being  enter'd, 
1  doubt  not,  I,  but  we  shall  soon  persuade 
Both  him  and  all  his  brothers  unto  reason. 

Enter  the  Mayor  and  Aldermen,  beloii>. 
K.  Ed7u.  So,  master  mayor :  these  gates  must  not  be 
shut 
But  in  the  night  or  in  the  time  of  war. 
What!  fear  not,  man,  but  yield  me  up  the  keys; 

[  Takes  his  keys. 
For  Edward  will  defend  the  town  and  thee. 
And  all  those  friends  that  deign  to  follow  me. 

Drum.    Enter  MONT(;oMF.RY  and  Eorces,  inarching, 
Glo.  Brother,  this  is  Sir  John  Montgomerj-, 
Our  trusty  friend,  unless  I  be  deceiv'd. 

K.H.VI.65.]  1.   i!97- 


Aci /y.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  iScene  VIL 

K.  Ediv.  Welcome,   Sir  John  !  But   why  come  you  in 

arms  ? 
Mont.  To  help  King  Edward  in  his  time  of  storm, 
As  every  loyal  subject  ought  to  do. 

K.Edw.    Thanks,   good  Montgomery:    but    we   now 
forget 
Our  title  to  the  crown,  and  only  claim 
Our  dukedom  till  God  please  to  send  the  rest. 

Mont.  Then  fare  you  well,  for  I  will  hence  again  : 
I  came  to  serve  a  king,  and  not  a  duke. — 
Drummer,  strike  up,  and  let  us  march  away. 

\A  ina}-(~/i  begun. 

K.  E(hv.  Nay,  stay,  Sir  John,  awhile  ;  and  we'll  debate 
By  what  safe  means  the  crown  may  be  recover'd. 

Mont.  What  talk  you  of  debating  ?  in  few  words, — 
If  you'll  not  here  proclaim  yourself  our  king, 
I'll  leave  you  to  your  fortune,  and  be  gone 
To  keep  them  back  that  come  to  succor  you  : 
W^hy  shall  we  fight,  if  you  pretend  no  title  ? 

Glo.  Why,  brother,  wherefore  stand  you  on  nice  points? 

K.  Ed7u.  When  we  grow  stronger,  then  we'll  make  our 
claim  : 
Till  then,  'tis  wisdom  to  conceal  our  meaning, 

Hast.  Away  with  scrupulous  wit  !  now  arms  must  rule. 

Glo.  And  fearless  minds  climb  soonest  unto  crowns. 
Brother,  we  will  proclaim  you  out  of  hand ; 
The  bruit  thereof  will  bring  you  many  friends. 

K.  Edw.  Then  be  it  as  you  will  ;  for  'tis  my  right. 
And  Henry  but  usurps  the  diadem. 

Mont.  Ay,  now  my  sovereign  speaketh  like  himself; 
And  now  will  I  be  Edward's  champion. 

Hast.    Sound    trumpet  ;    Edward    shall    be    here    pro- 
claim'd  :  — 
Come,  fellow-soldier,  make  thou  proclamation. 

\GiTCS  him  a  paper.    Flourish. 

Sold,  [reads]  "  Edward  the  Fourth,  by  the  grace  of 
God,  king  of  England  and  France,  and  lord  of  Ireland, 
&c." 

Mout .  And  whosoe'er  gainsavs  King  Edward's  right. 
By  this  I  challenge  him  to  single  fight. 

I  Thro7i>s  down  his  gauntlet. 

All.  Long  live  Edward  the  Fourth  ! 

1.  2q8.  [k.h.vi.66. 


Aci  IK]  KIXG  HEh'RV  17.  {^cene  I'lII. 

K.  EduK  Thanks,    brave   Moiitgomerj' ;  —  and  thanks 
unto  you  all : 
If  fortune  serve  me,  I'll  requite  this  kindness. 
Now,  for  this  night,  let's  harbor  here  in  York; 
And  when  the  morning  sun  shall  raise  his  car 
Above  the  border  of  this  horizon, 
We'll  forward  towards  Warwick  and  his  mates ; 
For  well  I  wot  that  Henry  is  no  soldier. — 
Ah,  froward  Clarence!  how  evil  it  beseems  thee 
To  flatter  Henry,  and  forsake  thy  brother ! 
Yet,  as  we  may,  we'll  meet  both  thee  and  \\'arwick. — 
Come  on,  brave  soldiers  :  doubt  not  of  the  day  ; 
And  that  once  gotten,  doubt  not  of  large  pay.     [Exeunt. 

Scene  \TII.     Londo)i.    A  room  in  the  palace. 

Flourish.    Enter  King  Henrv,  Warwick,  CLARENCE, 

Montague,  Exeter,  (?;^^/ Oxford. 

War.  What  counsel,  lords  .^  Edward  from  Belgia, 
With  hasty  Germans  and  blunt  Hollanders, 
Hath  pass'd  in  safety  through  the  narrow  seas, 
And  with  his  troops  doth  march  amain  to  London  ; 
And  many  giddy  people  flock  to  him. 

Oxf.  Let's  lev)-  men,  and  beat  him  back  again. 

Clar.  A  little  fire  is  quickl)  trodden  out ; 
Which,  being  suffer 'd,  rivers  cannot  quench. 

War.  In  War\\ickshire  I  ha\-e  true-hearted  friends, 
Not  mutinous  in  peace,  yet  bold  in  war; 
Those  will  I  muster  up:  —  and  thou,  son  Clarence, 
Shalt  stir  in  Suffolk,  Norfolk,  and  in  Kent, 
The  knights  and  gentlemen  to  come  with  thee:  — 
Thou,  brother  Montague,  in  Buckingham, 
Northamjjton,  and  in  Leicestershire,  shalt  find 
Men  well  inclin'd  to  hear  what  thou  command'st  :  — 
And  thou,  brave  Oxford,  wondrous  well  belov'd, 
In  Oxfordshire  shalt  muster  up  thy  friends. — 
My  sovereign,  with  the  loving  citizens, — 
Like  to  his  island  girt  in  with  the  ocean. 
Or  modest  Dian  circled  with  her  nymphs, — 
Shall  rest  in  London  till  we  come  to  him. — 
Fair  lords,  take  leave,  and  stand  not  to  reply. — 
Farewell,  my  sovereign. 

K.   Hen.    Farewell,   my  Hector,   and   my  Troy's  true 
hope. 
K.H.V1.67.]  I.  299. 


Act /I'.]  THE   THIRD  PART  OF  {Seem  i^lll. 

Clar.   In  sign  of  truth,  I  kiss  your  highness'  hand. 

K.  Hen.  Well-minded  Clarence,  be  thou  fortunate  ! 

Mont.  Comfort,  my  lord  ;  — and  so,  1  take  my  leave. 

Oxf.  [kissing  Henry's  hand\  And  thus  I  seal  my  truth, 

and  bid  adieu. 

K.  Hen.  Sweet  Oxford,  and  my  loving  Montague, 
And  all  at  once,  once  more  a  happy  farewell. 

War.  Farewell,  sweet  lords :  let's  meet  at  Coventry. 

{Exeunt  War.,  Clar.,  Oxf.,  and  Mont. 

K.  Hen.  Here  at  the  palace  will  I  rest  awhile. 
Cousin  of  E.xeter,  what  thinks  your  lordship  } 
Methinks  the  power  that  Edward  hath  in  field 
Should  not  be  able  to  encounter  mine. 

Exe.  The  doubt  is.  that  he  will  seduce  the  rest. 

K.  Hen.  That's  not  my  fear ;    my  meed  hath  got  me 
fame : 
I  have  not  stopp'd  mine  ears  to  their  demands. 
Nor  posted  off  their  suits  with  slow  delays  ; 
My  pity  hath  been  balm  to  heal  their  wounds. 
My  mildness  hath  allay'd  their  swelling  griefs, 
My  mercy  dryed  their  water-flowing  tears; 
I  have  not  been  desirous  of  their  wealth. 
Nor  much  oppress'd  them  with  great  subsidies. 
Nor  forward  of  revenge,  though  they  much  err'd  : 
Then  why  should  they  love  Edward  more  than  me? 
No,  Exeter,  these  graces  challenge  grace  : 
And,  when  the  lion  fawns  upon  the  lamb. 
The  lamb  will  never  cease  to  follow  him. 

{Slumt  within,  "  A  York  !  A  York!" 

Exe.  Hark,  hark,  my  lord  !  what  shouts  are  these  ? 

Enter  King  Edward,  Gloster,  and  Soldiers. 

K.  Ediu.  Seize  on  the  shame-fac'd   Henry,  bear  him 
hence ; 
And  once  again  jiroclaim  us  king  of  England. — 
You  are  the  fount  that  makes  small  brooks  to  flow : 
Now  stops  thy  spring;  my  sea  shall  suck  them  dry, 
And  swell  so  much  the  higher  by  their  ebb. — 
Hence  with  him  to  the  Tower;  let  him  not  speak. 

[Exeunt  some  luit/i  King  Henry, 
And,  lords,  towards  Coventry  bend  we  our  course, 
Where  peremptory  Warwick  now  remains : 

I.  300.  [k.h.vi.68> 


Act  l.)  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scg»e  7. 

The  sun  shines  hot ;  and,  if  we  use  delay, 
Cold-biting  winter  mars  our  hop'd  for  hay. 

C/o.  Away  betimes,  before  his  forces  join, 
And  take  the  great-grown  traitor  unawares : 
Brave  warriors,  march  amain  towards  Coventry. 

ACT    V. 
Scene  I.      CoTentry. 

Enfer,  upon  the  walls,  Warwick,  the  Mayor  of  Coven- 
try, two  Messengers,  and  others. 

War.  Where    is    the    post    that    came    from    valiant 
Oxford  ?  — 
How  far  hence  is  thy  lord,  mine  honest  fellow? 
First  Mess.  By    this  at  Dunsmore,    marching  hither- 
ward. 
War.  How  far  off  is  our  brother  Montague?  — 
Where  is  the  post  that  came  from  Montague? 

Second  Mess.  By  this  at  Daintry,  with  a  puissant  troop. 

Enter  Sir  John  So.merville. 

War.  Say,  Somerville,  what  says  my  loving  son  ? 
And,  by  thy  guess,  how  near  is  Clarence  now? 

Soni.  At  Southam  I  did  leave  him  with  his  forces. 
And  do  expect  him  here  some  two  hours  hence. 

{Drum  heard. 

War.  Then  Clarence  is  at  hand  ;  1  hear  his  drum. 

Som.  It  is  not  his,  my  lord  ;  here  Southam  lies  : 
The  drum  your  honor  hears  marcheth  from  Warwick. 

War.  Who  should  that  be  ?  belike,  unlook'd  forfriends. 

Som.  They  are  at  hand,  and  you  shall  quickly  know. 

[Enters  the  eity. 

March:  flourish.   Enter  King  Edward,  Gloster,^;/^/ 
Forces. 

K.  Edw.  Go,  trumpet,  to  the  walls,  and  sound  a  parle, 

Glo.  See  how  the  surly  Warwick  mans  the  wall  ! 

War.  O  unbid  spite!  is  sportful  Edward  come? 
Where  slept  our  scouts,  or  how  are  they  seduc'd. 
That  we  could  hear  no  news  of  his  repair? 

K.  Edw.  Now,  Warwick,  wilt  thou  ope  the  city-gates^ 
Speak  gentle  words,  and  humbly  bend  thy  knee, 
K.H.V1.69.]  I.  301. 


ArfV^  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene/. 

Call  Edward  king,  and  at  his  hands  beg  mercy? 
And  he  shall  pardon  thee  these  outrages. 

IVar.  Nay,  rather,  wilt  thou  draw  thy  forces  hence, 
Confess  who  set  thee  up  and  pluck'd  thee  down. 
Call  Warwick  patron,  and  be  penitent  ? 
And  thou  shalt  still  remain  the  Duke  of  York. 

G^o.  1  thought  at  least,  he  would  have  said  the  king ; 
Or  did  he  make  the  jest  against  his  will  ? 

IVar.  Is  not  a  dukedoin,  sir,  a  goodly  gift? 

G/o.  Ay,  by  my  faith,  for  a  poor  earl  to  give : 
I'll  do  thee  service  for  so  good  a  gift. 

PVar.  'Twas  I  that  gave  the  kingdom  to  thy  brother. 

K.  Edw.  Why,    then,  'tis  mine,  if   but    by    Warwick's 
gift. 

War.  Thou  art  no  Atlas  for  so  great  a  weight : 
And,  weakling,  Warwick  takes  his  gift  again  ; 
And  Henry  is  my  king,  Warwick  his  subject. 

K.  Eihu.  But  Warwick's  king  is  Edward's  prisoner: 
And,  gallant  Warwick,  do  but  answer  this, — 
What  is  the  body  when  the  head  is  off  ? 

Glo.  Alas,  that  Warwick  had  no  inore  forecast. 
But,  whiles  he  thought  to  steal  the  single  ten, 
The  king  was  slily  hnger'd  from  the  deck  ! 
You  left  poor  Henry  at  the  bishop's  palace, 
And,  ten  to  one,  you'll  meet  him  in  the  Tower. 

K.  Edw.  'Tis  even  so ;  yet  you  are  Warwick  still. 

Glo.  Come,  Warwick,  take  the  time ;  kneel  down,  kneel 
down  : 
Nay,  when  ?  strike  now,  or  else  the  iron  cools. 

War.  I  had  rather  chop  this  hand  off  at  a  blow. 
And  with  the  other  fling  it  at  thy  face, 
Than  bear  so  low  a  sail,  to  strike  to  thee. 

K.  Ediv.  Sail  how  thou  canst,  have  wind  and  tide  thy 
friend. 
This  hand,  fast  wound  about  thy  coal-black  hair. 
Shall,  whiles  thy  head  is  warm  and  new  cut  off. 
Write  in  the  dust  this  sentence  with  thy  blood, — 
"  Wind-changing  Warwick  now  can  change  no  more." 

Enter  Oxford,  with  Eorcrs,  dm iii.  and  colors. 

War.  O  cheerful  colors  !  see  where  Oxford  comes! 
Oxf.  Oxford,  Oxford,  for  Lancaster  ! 

[//(^  and  his  Eorcfs  enter  the  city. 

I.  302.  [K.H.V1.70. 


Ac/ y.)  Kli\G  HENRY  Vt.  [SccTte  , 

Glo.  The  gates  are  open,  let  us  enter  too. 

K.  Eihv.  So  other  foes  may  set  upon  our  backs. 
Stand  we  in  good  array  ;  for  they  no  doubt 
Will  issue  out  again  and  bid  us  battle : 
If  not.  the  city  being  but  of  small  defense, 
We'll  quickly  rouse  the  traitors  in  the  same. 

War.  O,  welcome,  Oxford  !  for  we  want  thy  help. 

Enter  Montague,  unth  Forces,  drum,  and  colors. 

Mont.  Montague,  Montague,  for  Lancaster! 

\Ht'  and  Ill's  Forces  enter  the  city, 

Glo.  Thou  and  thy  brother  both  shall  buy  this  treason 
Even  with  the  dearest  blood  \'our  bodies  bear. 

K.  Ediv.  The  harder  match'd,  the  greater  victory: 
My  mind  presageth  happy  gain  and  conquest. 

Enter  Somerset,  with  Forces,  drum,  and  colors. 

Soin.  Somerset,  Somerset,  for  Lancaster! 

\He  and  his  Forces  enter  the  city. 

Glo.  Two  of  thy  name,  both  Dukes  of  Somerset, 
Have  sold  their  lives  unto  the  house  of  York ; 
And  thou  shalt  be  the  third,  if  this  sword  hold. 

Enter  CLARENCE,  with  E'orces,  drinn,  afid  colors. 

War.  And  lo.  where  George  of  Clarence  sweeps  along, 
Of  force  enough  to  bid  his  brother  battle  ; 
With  whom  an  upright  zeal  to  right  prevails 
More  than  the  nature  of  a  brother's  love!  — 
Come,  Clarence,  come ;  thou  wilt,  if  Warwick  call, 

Clar.  Father  of  Warwick,  know  you  what  this  means  ? 
[  Taking  the  red  rose  out  of  his  hat. 
Look  here,  I  throw  my  infamy  at  thee  : 
I  will  not  ruinate  my  father's  house, 
Who  gave  his  blood  to  lime  the  stones  together. 
And  set  up  Lancaster.     Why,  trow'st  thou,  Warwick, 
That  Clarence  is  so  harsh,  so  blunt,  unnatural. 
To  bend  the  fatal  instruments  of  war 
Against  his  brother  and  his  lawful  king.' 
Perhaps  thou  wilt  object  mv  holy  oath  : 
To  keep  that  oath,  were  more  impiety 
Than  Jephtha's,  when  he  sacrific'd  his  daughter. 
I  am  so  sorry  for  my  trespass  made. 
That,  to  deserve  well  at  mv  brother's  hands, 
I  here  proclaim  myself  thy  mortal  foe  ; 
K.H.V1.71.]  I.  303. 


4c(  y.]  THE  THIRD  FAR  1   OF  [Scene  11. 

With  resolution,  wheresoe'er  I  meet  thee, — 
As  I  will  meet  thee,  if  thou  stir  abroad, — 
To  plague  thee  for  thy  foul  misleading  me. 
And  so,  proud-hearted  Warwick,  I  defy  thee, 
And  to  my  brother  turn  my  blushing  cheeks. — 
Pardon  me,  Edward,  I  will  make  amends  ;  -^ 
And,  Richard,  do  not  frown  upon  my  faults, 
For  I  will  henceforth  be  no  more  unconstant. 

K.  E(ha.  Now    welcome    more   and    ten    times   more 
belov'd 
Than  if  thou  never  hadst  deserv'd  our  hate. 

G/o.  Welcome,  good  Clarence ;  this  is  brother-like. 
War.  O  passing  traitor,  perjur'd  and  unjust  ! 
K.  Edw.  What,  Warwick,  wilt  thou   leave  the  town, 
and  fight  ? 
Or  shall  we  beat  the  stones  about  thine  ears  } 

JVar.  Alas,  I  am  not  coop'd  here  for  defense  ! 
I  will  away  towards  Barnet  presently. 
And  bid  thee  battle,  Edward,  if  thou  dar'st. 

K.  Edw.  Yes,  Warwick,  Edward   dares,  and  leads  the 
way. — 
Lords,  to  the  field  ;  Saint  George  and  victory  ! 

yExeunt  King  Edivard  and  his  Company, 
inarching.  Warwick  and  his  Com- 
pany descend  fron  the  walls,  and fol- 
lo7u  them. 

Scene  II.     A  field  of  battle  near  Barnet. 

Alarums  and  excursions.    Enter  King  Edward,  bring- 
ing in  Warwick  wounded. 

K.  Edzu.   So,  lie  thou  there  :  die  thou,  and  die  our  fear; 
For  Warwick  was  a  bug  that  fear'd  us  all. — 
Now,  Montague,  sit  fast ;  I  seek  for  thee. 
That  Warwick's  bones  may  keep  thine  company.    {Exit. 

War.  Ah,  who  is  nigh  ?  come  to  me,  friend  or  foe, 
And  tell  me  who  is  victor,  York  or  Warwick  ? 
Why  ask  I  that .''  my  mangled  body  shows, 
My  blood,  my  want  of  strength,  my  sick  heart  shows, 
That  I  must  yield  my  body  to  the  earth, 
And,  by  my  fall,  the  conquest  to  my  foe. 
Thus  yields  the  cedar  to  the  ax's  edge. 
Whose  arms  gave  shelter  to  the  princely  eagle, 

I.  304.  [k,h.vi,7«. 


A  ct  I :]  K/XC  HEXR )  ■  /  7.  {Scene  II 

Under  whose  shade  the  ramping  Hon  slept, 

Whose  top-branch  overpeer'd  Jove  s  spreading  tree. 

Anil  kept  low  shrubs  from  winter's  powerful  wind. 

These  eyes,  that  now  are  dimm'd  with  death's  black  veil, 

Have  been  as  jjiercing  as  the  mid-day  sun. 

To  search  the  secret  treasons  of  the  world  : 

The  wrinkles  in  my  brows,  now  hll'd  w  ith  l)lood, 

Were  liken'd  oft  to  kingly  sepulchers  ; 

For  who  liv'd  king,  but  I  could  dig  his  grave? 

And  who  durst  smile  when  Warwick  bent  his  brow  ? 

Lo,  now  my  glory  smear'd  in  dust  and  blood  ! 

My  parks,  my  walks,  my  manors  that  I  had, 

Even  now  forsake  me  ;  and  of  all  my  lands 

Is  nothing  left  me  but  my  body's  length  ! 

Why,  what  is  pomp,  rule,  reign,  but  earth  and  dust? 

And,  live  we  how  we  can,  yet  die  we  must. 

Enter  OXFORD  and  S()MERSET. 

Som.  Ah,  W'arwick,  Warwick  I  wert  thou  as  we  are, 
W^e  might  recover  all  our  loss  again  : 

The  Queen  from  France  hath  brought  a  puissant  power; 
Even  now  we  heard  the  news  :  ah,  couldst  thou  fly  ! 

War.  Why,  then,  1  would  not  tly. —  Ah,  Montague, 
If  thou  be  there,  sweet  brother,  take  my  hand, 
And  with  thy  lips  keep  in  my  soul  awhile  ! 
Thou  lo\  'st  me  not ;  for,  brother,  if  thou  didst, 
Thy  tears  would  wash  this  cold  congealed  blood. 
That  glues  my  lips  and  will  not  let  me  speak. 
Come  quickly.  Montague,  or  1  am  dead. 

Som.   Ah,  Warwick  !  Montague  hath  breath'd  his  last  i" 
And  to  the  latest  gasp  cried  out  for  Warwick, 
And  said,  "  Commend  me  to  my  valiant  brother." 
And  more  he  would  have  said  ;  and  more  he  spoke. 
Which  sounded  like  a  clamor  in  a  vault. 
That  mought  not  be  distinguish 'd  ;  but  at  last 
I  well  might  hear,  deliver'd  with  a  groan, 
"  O,  farewell,  Warwick  !  " 

War.  Sweet  rest  his  soul  ! —  Fly,  lords,  and  save  your- 
selves ; 
For  Warwick  bids  you  all  farewell,  to  meet  in  heaven. 

1  Dies. 

Ox/.  Away,  away,  to  meet  the  queen's  great  power! 

\Exeunt,  bearing  off  Warwick's  body. 

X.H.V1.73.]  I.  305. 


Acf  v.]  THE   THIRD  PART  OF  [Scene  JV. 

Scene  III.     Another  part  of  the  field. 

Flourish,      Enter   King  Ejjward    ui    triumph  ;  with 
Clarence,  Gloster,  and  the  rest. 

K.  Edw.  Thus  far  our  fortune  keeps  an  upward  course, 
And  we  are  grac'd  with  wreaths  of  victory. 
But,  in  the  midst  of  this  bright-shining  day, 
I  spy  a  black,  suspicious,  threatening  cloud. 
That  will  encounter  with  our  glorious  sun 
Ere  he  attain  his  easeful  western  bed  : 
1  mean,  my  lords,  those  powers  that  the  queen 
Hath  rais'd  in  Gallia  have  arriv'd  our  coast, 
And,  as  we  hear,  march  on  to  tight  \\'\\\\  us. 

Clar.  A  little  gale  will  soon  disperse  that  cloud, 
And  blow  it  to  the  source  from  whence  it  came: 
Thy  very  beams  will  dry  those  vapors  up; 
For  every  cloud  engenders  not  a  storm. 

Glo.  The  queen  is  valu'd  thirty  thousand  strong, 
And  Somerset,  with  Oxford,  fled  to  her : 
If  she  have  time  to  breathe,  be  well  assur'd 
Her  faction  will  be  full  as  strong  as  ours. 

K.  Edw.  We  are  advertis'd  by  our  loving  friends 
That  they  do  hold  their  course  toward  Tewksburj'  : 
We,  having  now  the  best  at  Barnet  field, 
Will  thither  straight,  for  willingness  rids  way  ; 
And,  as  we  march,  our  strength  will  be  augmented 
In  every  county  as  we  go  along. — 
Strike  up  the  drum  ;  cry,  "  Courage  !  "  and  away. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene  IV.  Plains  near   Tewkshury. 

March.    Enter    Queen    MARGARET,    Prince    EDWARD, 
Somerset,  Oxford,  and  Soldiers. 

Q.  Mar.  Great  lords,  wise  men  ne'er  sit  and  wail  their 
loss, 
But  cheerly  seek  how  to  redress  their  harms. 
What  though  the  mast  be  now  blown  overboard. 
The  cable  broke,  the  holding-anchor  lost, 
And  half  our  sailors  swallow'd  in  the  flood  ? 
Yet  lives  our  pilot  still :  is't  meet  that  he 
Should  leave  the  helm,  and,  like  a  fearful  lad, 
With  tearful  eyes  add  water  to  the  sea, 

I.  306.  [K.H.V1.74, 


Act  /'.]  KIKG  HENRY  Vl.  [Seem  II ' 

And  give  more  strength  to  that  which  hath  too  nauch ; 

Whiles,  in  his  moan,  the  ship  spHts  on  the  rock. 

Which  industry  and  courage  might  have  sav'd  ? 

Ah,  what  a  shame  !  ah,  what  a  fault  were  this  ! 

Say  Warwick  was  our  anchor;  what  of  that? 

And  Montague  our  topmast ;  what  of  him  ? 

Our  slaughter'd  friends  the  tackles;  what  of  these? 

Why,  is  not  Oxford  here  another  anchor.'' 

And  Somerset  another  goodly  mast  ? 

The  friends  of  France  our  shrouds  and  tacklings? 

And,  though  unskillful,  why  not  Ned  and  I 

For  once  allow'd  the  skillful  pilot's  charge? 

We  will  not  from  the  helm  to  sit  and  weep ; 

But  keep  our  course,  though  the  rough  wind  say  no. 

From  shelves  and  rocks  that  threaten  us  with  wreck. 

As  good  to  chide  the  waves  as  speak  them  fair. 

And  what  is  Edward  but  a  ruthless  sea  ? 

What  Clarence  but  a  quicksand  of  deceit? 

And  Richard  but  a  ragged  fatal  rock? 

All  these  the  enemies  to  our  poor  bark. 

Say  you  can  swim, —  alas,  'tis  but  awhile  ! 

Tread  on  the  sand, —  why,  there  you  quickly  sink; 

Bestride  the  rock, —  the  tide  will  wash  you  off, 

Or  else  you  famish  ;  that's  a  threefold  death. 

This  speak  I,  lords,  to  let  you  understand, 

If  case  some  one  of  you  would  fly  from  us. 

That  there's  no  hop'd-for  mercy  with  the  brothers 

More  than  Vv'ith  ruthless  waves,  with  sands,  and  rocks. 

Why,  courage,  then  !  what  cannot  be  avoided 

'Twere  childish  weakness  to  lament  or  fear. 

Prince.  Methinks  a  woman  of  this  valiant  spirit 
Should,  if  a  coward  heard  her  speak  these  words, 
Infuse  his  breast  with  magnanimity. 
And  make  him  naked  foil  a  man-at-arms. 
I  speak  not  this  as  doubting  any  here; 
For  did  I  but  suspect  a  fearful  man, 
He  should  have  leave  to  go  away  betimes ; 
Lest  in  our  need  he  might  infect  another. 
And  make  him  of  like  spirit  to  himself. 
If  any  such  be  here, —  as  God  forbid  !  — 
Let  him  depart  before  we  need  his  help. 

Oxf.  Women  and  children  of  so  high  a  courage. 
And  warriors  faint  !  why  'twere  perpetual  shame. — 

K.H.V1.75.]  I.  J07. 


Act  K]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  {Scene IV, 

0  brave  young  prince  !  thy  famous  grandfather 
Doth  Hve  again  in  thee  :  long  inayst  thou  live 
To  bear  his  image  and  renew  his  glories  ! 

Soin.  And  he  that  will  not  tight  for  such  a  hope. 
Go  home  to  bed,  and,  like  the  owl  by  day, 
If  he  arise,  be  mock'd  and  wonder'd  at. 

<2.  Mar.  Thanks,    gentle    Somerset ;  —  sweet   Oxford, 
thanks. 

Prince.  And  take  his  thanks  that  yet  hath  nothing  else. 

Enter  a  Messenger. 
Mess.  Prepare  you,  lords  ;  for  Edward  is  at  hand, 
Ready  to  fight ;  therefore  be  resolute. 

Oxf.  I  thought  no  less  :  it  is  his  policy 
To  haste  thus  fast,  to  find  us  unprovided. 
Som.  But  he's  deceiv'd  ;  we  are  in  readiness. 
Q.  Mar.  This  cheers   my  heart,  to  see  your  forward- 
ness. 
Oxf.  Here  pitch  our  battle ;  hence  we  will  not  budge. 

Flourish    and   march.     Enter,  at  some  distance.   King 
Edward,  Clarence,  Gloster,  and  Forces. 
K.  Edw.  Brave  followers,   yonder   stands    the   thorny 
wood, 
Which,  by  the  heavens'  assistance  and  your  strength, 
Must  by  the  roots  be  hewn  up  yet  ere  night. 

1  need  not  add  more  fuel  to  your  fire. 
For  well  I  wot  ye  blaze  to  burn  them  out : 
Give  signal  to  the  fight,  and  to  it,  lords. 

Q.  Mar.  Lords,  knights,  and  gentlemen,  what  I  should 
say 
My  tears  gainsay;  for  every  word  I  speak, 
Ye  see,  I  drink  the  water  of  mine  eyes. 
Therefore,  no  more  but  this  :  —  Henry,  your  sovereign. 
Is  prisoner  to  the  foe  ;  his  state  usurp'd, 
His  realm  a  slaughter-house,  his  subjects  slain. 
His  statutes  cancel'd,  and  his  treasure  spent; 
And  yonder  is  the  wolf  that  makes  this  spoil. 
You  fight  in  justice:  then,  in  God's  name,  lords. 
Be  vahant,  and  give  signal  to  the  fight. 

[Exeufit  both  armies. 


I.   30S.  (K.H.VI.Tfl. 


Act  v."]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  K 

Scene  V.     Another  part  of  the  same. 

Alarums :    e.vci/ri/o/is :    and    afterwards     a     retreat. 

Then  enter  King  Edward,  Clarence,  Gloster, 

and  Forces  ;  with  Queen  Margaret,  Oxford, 

and  Somerset,  prisoners. 

K.  Edw.  Now,  here  a  period  of  tumultuous  broils. 
Away  with  Oxford  to  Hani's  Castle  straight : 
For  Somerset,  off  with  his  guilty  head. 
Go,  bear  them  hence  ;  I  will  not  hear  them  speak. 

Oxf.  For  my  part,  Fll  not  trouble  thee  with  words. 

Soni.  Nor  I,  but  stoop  with  patience  to  my  fortune. 

[Exeunt  Oxford  and  Somerset,  guarded. 

Q.  Mai-.  So  part  we  sadly  in  this  troublous  world, 
To  meet  with  joy  in  sweet  Jerusalem. 

K.  Edw.  Is   proclamation   made   that   who   finds   Ed- 
ward 
Shall  have  a  high  reward,  and  he  his  life  ? 

Glo.  It  is :  and  lo,  where  youthful  Edward  comes ! 

Enter  Soldiers,  with  Prince  Edward. 

K.  Edw.  Bring  forth  the  gallant,  let  us  hear  him  speak. 
What !  can  so  young  a  thorn  begin  to  prick  .'*  — 
Edward,  what  satisfaction  canst  thou  make 
For  bearing  arms,  for  stirring  up  my  subjects, 
And  all  the  trouble  thou  hast  turn'd  me  to.-* 

Prince.  Speak  like  a  subject,  proud  ambitious  York! 
Suppose  that  I  am  now  my  father's  mouth  ; 
Resign  thy  chair,  and  where  I  stand  kneel  thou, 
Whilst  I  propose  the  selfsame  words  to  thee, 
Which,  traitor,  thou  wouldst  have  me  answer  to. 

Q.  Mar.  Ah,  that  thy  father  had  been  so  resolv'd ! 

Glo.  That  you  might  still  have  worn  the  petticoat, 
And  ne'er  have  stol'n  the  breech  from  Lancaster. 

Prince.  Let  /Esop  fable  in  a  winter's  night; 
His  currish  riddles  sort  not  with  this  place. 

Glo.  By  heaven,  brat,  I'll  plague  ye  for  that  word. 

Q.  Mar.  Ay,  thou  wast  born  to  be  a  plague  to  men. 

Glo.  For  God's  sake,  take  away  this  captive  scold. 

Prince.  Nay,     take    away    this     scolding    crook-back 
rather. 

K.  Edw.  Peace,  willful  boy,  or  I  will  charm  your  tongue. 

Clar,  Untutor'd  lad,  thou  art  too  malapert. 

K.H.V1.77.]  I.  309. 


ilci  F.]  THE  THIRD  PARI  OF  [Scene  V. 

Prince.  I  know  my  duty  ;  you  are  all  undutiful : 
Lascivious  Edward,  —  and' thou,  perjur'd  George, — 
And  thou,  mis-shapen  Dick,  I  tell  ye  all 
I  am  your  better,  traitors  as  ye  are  ;  — - 
And  thou  usurp'st  my  father's  rig^ht  and  mine. 

K.  Edru.  Take  that,  thou  likeness  of  this  railer  here. — 

YStabs  him. 

Glo.  Sprawl'st  thou  ?  take  that,  to  end  thy  agony. 

{^Stabs  him. 

Clar.  And  there's  for  twitting  me  with  perjury. 

{Stabs  him. 

Q.  Mar.  O,  kill  me  too  ! 

Glo.  Marry,  and  shall.  {Offers  to  kill  her. 

K.  Edw.  Hold,   Richard,  hold ;  for  we  have  done  too 
much. 

Glo.  Why  should  she  live,  to  fill  the  world  with  words  ? 

K.  Edw.  What,  doth  she   swoon  ?  use  means  for  her 
recovery. 

Glo.  Clarence,  excuse  me  to  the  king  my  brother ; 
I'll  hence  to  London  on  a  serious  matter: 
Ere  ye  come  there,  be  sure  to  hear  some  news. 

Clar.  What  ?  what  } 

Glo.  The  Tower,  the  Tower  !  {Exit. 

Q.  Mar.  O  Ned,   sweet    Ned  !  speak    to    thy  mother, 
boy ! 
Canst  thou  not  speak  ?  —  O  traitors  !  murderers  !  — 
They  that  stabbd  Caesar  shed  no  blood  at  all, 
Did  not  offend,  nor  were  not  worthy  blame. 
If  this  foul  deed  were  by  to  equal  it : 
He  was  a  man  ;  this,  in  respect,  a  child,— 
And  men  ne'er  spend  their  fury  on  a  child. 
What's  worse  than  murderer,  that  I  may  name  it  ? 
No,  no,  my  heart  will  burst,  an  if  I  speak  :  — 
And  I  will  speak,  that  so  my  heart  may  burst. — 
Butchers  and  villains  !  bloody  cannibals  ! 
How  sweet  a  plant  have  you  untimely  cropp'd  ! 
You  have  no  children,  butchers  !  if  you  had. 
The  thought  of  them  would  have  stirr'd  up  remorse : 
But  if  you  ever  chance  to  have  a  child. 
Look  in  his  youth  to  have  him  so  cut  off 
As,  deathsmen,  you  have  rid  this  sweet  young  prince ! 

K.  Edw.  Away  with  her  ;  go,  bear  her  hence  perforce. 

Q.  Mar.  Nay,  never  bear  me  hence,  dispatch  me  here  ; 
I.  310.  [K.H.V1.78. 


Ait  v."]  KING  HENRY  VI.  [Scene  VI. 

Here  sheathe  thy  sword,  111  pardon  thee  my  death  : 
What,  wilt  thou  not  ?  —  then,  Clarence,  do  it  thou. 

Clar.  By  heaven,  I  will  not  do  thee  so  much  ease. 

Q.  Mar.  Good  Clarence,  do  ;  sweet  Clarence,  do  thou 
do  it. 

Clar.  Didst  thou  not  hear  me  swear  I  would  not  do  it  ? 

Q,  Mar.  Ay,  but  thou  usest  to  forswear  thyself : 
'Twas  sin  before,  but  now  'tis  charity. 
What,  wilt  thou  not .'  —  Where  is  that  devil's  butcher, 
Hard-favor"d  Richard  ?  —  Richard,  where  art  thou  .'' 
Thou  art  not  here  :  murder  is  thy  alms-deed  ; 
Petitioners  for  blood  thou  ne'er  putt'st  back. 

K.  Ediu.  Away,  I  say  ;  I  charge  ye,  bear  her  hence. 

Q.  Mar.  So  come  to  you  and  yours,  as  to  this  prince ! 

YExit,  led  out. 

K.  Edw.  Where's  Richard  gone.'' 

Clar.  To  London,  all  in  post ;  and,  as  I  guess, 
To  make  a  bloody  supper  in  the  Tower. 

K.  Edw.   He's  sudden,  if  a  thing  comes  in  his  head. 
Now  march  we  hence  ;  discharge  the  common  sort 
With  pay  and  thanks,  and  let's  away  to  London, 
And  see  our  gentle  queen  how  well  she  fares,— 
By  this,  I  hope,  she  hath  a  son  for  me.  \E.xevnt. 

Scene  VL     London.     A  room  In  the  Tower. 

King  Henry  is  discovered  sifting  with  a  book  In  his 
hand,  the  Lieutenant  attending.    Enter  Gloster. 

Glo.  Good  day,  my  lord.     What,  at  your  book  so  hard  } 

K.  Hen.  Ay,   my  good   lord  : — my  lord,  I  should  say 
rather ; 
'Tis  sin  to  flatter  ;  "  good  "  was  little  better  : 
"  Good  Gloster  "  and  "  good  devil  "  were  alike, 
And  both  preposterous  ;  therefore,  not  "  good  lord." 

Glo.  Sirrah,  leave  us  to  ourselves  :  we  must  confer. 

[Exit  Lieutenant. 

K.  Hen.  So  flies  the  reckless  shepherd   from  the  wolf; 
So  first  the  harmless  sheep  doth  yield  his  fleece, 
And  next  his  throat  unto  the  butcher's  knife. — 
What  scene  of  death  hath  Roscius  now  to  act  ? 

Glo.  Suspicion  always  haunts  the  guilty  mind  ; 
The  thief  doth  fear  each  bush  an  officer. 

K.  Hen.  The  bird  that  hath  been  limed  in  a  bush, 

K.H.vi.79.1  I.  311. 


A  ct  v.]  THE  THIRD  PA  Rl  OF  \Scene  VI. 

With  trembiing  wings  misdoubteth  every  bush  ; 

And  I,  the  hapless  male  to  one  sweet  bird, 

Have  now  the  fatal  ol)jecl  in  my  eye 

Where  my  poor  young  was  lim'd,  was  caught,  and  kill'd. 

Crlo.   Why,  what  a  peevish  fool  was  that  of  Crete, 
That  taught  his  son  the  office  of  a  fowl ! 
And  yet,  for  all  his  wings,  the  fowl  was  drown'd. 

K.  Hen.   I,  Daedalus  ;  my  poor  boy,  Icarus  ; 
Thy  father,  Minos,  that  denied  our  course; 
The  sun,  that  sear'd  the  wings  of  my  sweet  boy, 
Thy  brother  Edward  ;  and  thyself,  the  sea, 
Whose  envious  gulf  did  swallow  up  his  life. 
Ah,  kill  me  with  thy  weapon,  not  with  words  ! 
My  breast  can  better  brook  thy  dagger's  point 
Than  can  my  ears  that  tragic  history. 
But  wherefore  dost  thou  come  .?  is't  for  my  life  ? 

Glo.  T-hink'st  thou  I  am  an  executioner  } 

K.  Hen.   A  persecutor,  I  am  sure,  thou  art : 
If  murdering  innocents  be  executing. 
Why,  then  thou  art  an  executioner. 

Glo.  Thy  son  I  kill'd  for  his  presumption. 

K.  Hen.  Hadst  thou  been  kill'd  when  first  thou  didst 
presume. 
Thou  hadst  not  liv'd  to  kill  a  son  of  mine. 
And  thus  I  prophesy, —  that  many  a  thousand, 
Which  now  mistrust  no  parcel  of  my  fear, 
And  many  an  old  man's  sigh  and  many  a  widow's, 
And  many  an  orphan's  water-standing  eye  — 
Men  for  their  sons,  wives  for  their  husbands'  fate. 
And  orphans  for  their  parents'  timeless  death  — 
Shall  rue  the  hour  that  ever  thou  wast  born. 
The  owl  shriek'd  at  thy  birth, —  an  evil  sign  ; 
The  night-crow  cried,  aboding  luckless  time  ; 
Dogs  howi'd,  and  hideous  tempest  shook  down  trees ; 
The  raven  rook'd  her  on  the  chimney's  top, 
And  chattering  pies  in  dismal  discord  sung. 
Thy  mother  felt  more  than  a  mother's  pain, 
And  yet  brought  forth  less  than  a  mother's  hope, — 
An  indigested  and  deformed  lump. 
Not  like  the  fruit  of  such  a  goodly  tree. 
Teeth  hadst  thou  in  thy  head  when  thou  wast  born. 
To  signify  thou  cam'st  to  bite  the  world  : 

I-  3IZ-  [k.h.vi.S* 


Aa  K.J  KfA'C  IIEXRY  Vt.  {Scene  VI. 

And,  if  the  rest  be  true  which  I  have  heard. 
Thou  camst  — 

Glo.  I'll  hear  no  more  :  —  die,  prophet,  in  thy  speech  : 

'^Stabs  him. 
For  this,  amongst  the  rest,  was  I  ordain'd. 

K.  Hen.  Ay,  and  for  much  more  slaughtered  after  this. 
O,  God  forgive  my  sins,  and  pardon  thee  !  [Dies. 

Glo.   What,  will  th'  aspiring  blood  of  Lancaster 
Sink  in  the  ground  ?  I  thought  it  would  have  mounted. 
See  how  my  sword  weeps  for  the  poor  king's  death  ! 

0,  may  such  purple  tears  be  always  shed 

From  those  that  wish  the  downfall  of  our  house!  — 

If  any  spark  of  life  be  yet  remaining, 

Down,  down  to  hell ;  and  say  1  sent  thee  hither,  — 

[  Stabs  hitn  again, 

1,  that  have  neither  pity,  love,  nor  fear. — 
Indeed,  'tis  true  that  Henry  told  me  of; 
For  I  have  often  heard  my  mother  say 

I  came  into  the  world  with  my  legs  forward  : 

Had  I  not  reason,  think  ye,  to  make  haste, 

And  seek  their  ruin  that  usurp'd  our  right  ? 

The  midwife  wonder'd  ;  and  the  women  cried, 

"  O,  Jesus  bless  us,  he  is  born  with  teeth  ! " 

And  so  I  was  ;  which  plainly  signified 

That  I  should  snarl,  and  bite,  and  play  the  dog. 

Then,  since  the  heavens  have  shap'd  my  body  so. 

Let  hell  make  crook'd  my  mind  to  answer  it. 

I  have  no  brother,  I  am  like  no  brother; 

And  this  word  "  love,"  which  graybeards  call  divine. 

Be  resident  in  men  like  one  another. 

And  not  in  me  :  I  am  myself  alone. — 

Clarence,  beware;  thou  keep'st  me  from  the  light: 

But  I  will  sort  a  pitchy  day  for  thee  ; 

For  I  will  buzz  abroad  such  prophecies. 

That  Edward  shall  be  fearful  of  his  life ; 

And  then,  to  purge  his  fear,  I'll  be  thy  death. 

King  Henry  and  the  prince  his  son  are  gone : 

Clarence,  thy  turn  is  next,  and  then  the  rest ; 

Counting  myself  but  bad  till  I  be  best. — 

I'll  throw  thy  bodv  in  another  room. 

And  triumph,  Henry,  in  thy  day  of  doom. 

\^Exit  with  the  body. 

K.H.V1.81.]  I.  J13. 


Act  r.]  THE  THIRD  PART  OF  ^Scene  VII. 

"  Scene  VII.      The  same.     A  rooDi  in  the  palace. 

Flourish.     King  Edward  is  discovered  sitting  on  his 

throne;  Queen  Elizabeth,  «  Nurse  with  the 

infant  Prince,  Clarence,  Gloster. 

W.K'&w^Q,^,  and  others. 

K.  Edw,  Once  more  we  sit  in  England's  royal  throne, 
Re-purchas'd  with  the  blood  of  enemies. 
What  valiant  foemen,  like  to  autumn's  corn, 
Have  we  mow'd  down  in  top  of  all  their  pride! 
Three  Dukes  of  Somerset, —  threefold  renown'd 
For  hardy  and  undoubted  champions  ; 
Two  Cliffords,  as  the  father  and  the  son  ; 
And  two  Northumberlands, —  two  braver  men 
Ne'er  spurr'd  their  coursers  at  the  trumpet's  sound ; 
With  them, 

The  two  brave  bears,  Warwick  and  Montague, 
That  in  their  chains  fetter'd  the  kingly  lion, 
And  made  the  forest  tremble  when  they  roar'd. 
Thus  have  we  swept  suspicion  from  our  seat, 
And  made  our  footstool  of  security. — 
Come  hither,  Bess,  and  let  me  kiss  my  boy. — - 
Young  Ned,  for  thee,  thine  uncles  and  myself 
Have  in  our  armors  watch'd  the  winter's  night; 
Went  all  afoot  in  summer's  scalding  heat. 
That  thou  mightst  repossess  the  crown  in  peace : 
And  of  our  labors  thou  shalt  reap  the  gain. 

Glo.  \aside\  I'll  blast  his  harvest,  if  your  head  were  laid  ; 
For  yet  I  am  not  look'd  on  in  the  world. 
This  shoulder  was  ordain'd  so  thick  to  heave; 
And  heave  it  shall  some  weight,  or  break  my  back :  — 
Work  thou  the  way, —  and  thou  shalt  execute. 

A'.  Edw.  Clarence  and  Gloster,  love  my  lovely  queen  ; 
And  kiss  your  princely  nephew,  brothers  both. 

Clar.  The  duty  that  I  owe  unto  your  majesty 
I  seal  upon  the  lips  of  this  sweet  babe. 

Q.  Eliz.  Thanks,    noble    Clarence;     worthy    brother, 
thanks. 

Glo.  And,  that    I     love    the   tree    from    whence    thou 
sprang'st. 
Witness  the  loving  kiss  I  give  the  fruit. — 
\Aside\  To  say  the  truth,  so  Judas  kiss'd  his  master. 
And  cried,  "  All  hail !  "  whenas  he  meant  all  harm. 

I.  314.  [K.H.vi.Sa. 


Aa  r.}  KIXG  HEXRY  VI.  [S^ene  r//. 

K.  Ediv.  Now  am  I  seated  as  my  soul  delights, 
Having  my  country's  peace  and  brothers"  loves. 

(Jlar.  What  will  your  grace  have  done  with  Margaret? 
Reignier,  her  father,  to  the  king  of  France 
Hath  pavvn'd  the  Sicils  and  Jerusalem, 
And  hither  have  they  sent  it  for  her  ransom. 

K.  Eihi'.  Away  with  her,  and  waft  her  hence  to  France. 
And  now  what  rests,  but  that  we  spend  the  time 
Wi^h  stately  triumphs,  mirthful  comic  shows, 
Such  as  beht  the  pleasure  of  the  court  ? 
Sov  nd  drums  and  trumpets  I  farev.'ell  sour  annoy  ! 
F  ^1  here,  I  hope,  begins  our  lasting  joy.  [Exeunt. 


It.H.vi.83.1  1-  3*5. 


THE 

TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 


DRAMATIS   PERSONS. 


Duke  of  Milan. 

Antonio. 

Proteus,  his  son. 

Valentine. 

Thurio. 

Eglamour. 

Speed,  servant  to  Valentine. 

Launce,  servant  to  Proteus. 

Servants, 


Panthino,  servant  to  Antonio, 

Host. 

Outlaws. 


Sylvia,  daughter  to  the  Duke. 

Julia. 

Lucetta,  her  waiting- woman. 

Musicians. 


Scene — In  Verona  ;  in  Milan  ;  and  in  a  forest  near 
Milan. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I.    Verona.  An  open  place  in  the  city. 

Enter  Valentine  and  Proteus. 

Val.  Cease  to  persuade,  my  loving  Proteus  : 
Home-keeping  youth  have  ever  homely  wits. 
Were't  not  affection  chains  thy  tender  days 
To  the  sweet  glances  of  thy  honor'd  love, 
I  rather  would  entreat  thy  company 
To  see  the  wonders  of  the  world  abroad. 
Than,  living  dully  siuggardiz'd  at  home. 
Wear  out  thy  youth  with  shapeless  idleness. 
But  since  thou  lov'st,  love  still,  and  thrive  therein. 
Even  as  I  would,  when  1  to  love  begin. 

T.0.V.3.J  i.  319. 


Act/.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  I'ERONA.  [».«?/. 

Pro.  Wilt  thou  be  gone  ?     Sweet  Valentine,  adieu  ! 
Think  on  thy  Proteus,  when  thou  haply  see'st 
Some  rare  note-worthy  object  in  thy  travel : 
Wish  me  partaker  in  thy  happiness. 
When  thou  dost  meet  good  hap  ;  and  in  thy  danger. 
If  ever  danger  do  environ  thee. 
Commend  thy  grievance  to  my  holy  prayers, 
For  I  will  be  thy  beadsman,  Valentine. 

Val.  And  on  a  love-book  pray  for  my  success? 
Pro.  Upon  some  book  I  love  I'll  pray  for  thee. 
Val.  That's  on  some  shallow  story  of  deep  love  ; 
How  young  Leander  cross'd  the  Hellespont. 
Pro.  That's  a  deep  story  of  a  deeper  love ; 
For  he  was  more  than  over  shoes  in  love. 

Val.  'Tis  true  ;  for  you  are  over  boots  in  love, 
And  yet  you  never  swam  the  Hellespont. 

Pro.  Over  the  boots  !  nay,  give  me  not  the  boots. 
Val.  No,  I  will  not,  for  it  boots  thee  not. 
Pro.  What  ? 

Val.  To  be  in  love,  where  scorn  is  bought  with  groans  ; 
Coy  looks  WMth  heart-sore   sighs ;  one  fading  moment's 

mirth 
With  twenty  watchful,  weary,  tedious  nights  : 
If  haply  won,  perhaps  a  hapless  gain  ; 
If  lost,  why  then  a  grievous  labor  won  ; 
However,  but  a  folly  bought  with  wit, 
Or  else  a  wit  by  folly  vanquished. 

Pro.  So,  by  your  circumstance,  you  call  me  fool. 
Val.  So,  by  your  circumstance,  I  fear  you'll  prove. 
Pro.  'Tis  love  you  cavil  at :  I  am  not  Love. 
Val.  Love  is  your  master,  for  he  masters  you  : 
And  he  that  is  so  yoked  by  a  fool, 
Methinks,  should  not  be  chronicled  for  wise. 

Pro.  Yet  writers  say,  as  in  the  sweetest  bud 
The  eating  canker  dwells,  so  eating  love 
Inhabits  in  the  finest  wits  of  all. 

Val.  And  writers  say,  as  the  most  forward  bud 
Is  eaten  by  the  canker  ere  it  blow, 
Even  so  by  love  the  young  and  tender  wit 
Is  turn'd  to  folly  ;  blasting  in  the  bud, 
Losing  his  verdure  even  in  the  prime. 
And  all  the  fair  effects  of  future  hopes. 

I.  3ZO.  [t.C.V.  4. 


Act  I.^  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  \_Scene  I. 

But  wherefore  waste  I  time  to  counsel  thee. 
That  art  a  votary  to  fond  desire  ? 
Once  more  adieu  !  my  father  at  the  road 
Expects  my  coming,  there  to  see  me  shipp'd. 

Pro.  And  thither  will  I  bring  thee,  \'alentine. 

Val.  Sweet  Proteus,  no  ;  now  let  us  take  our  leave. 
To  Milan  let  me  hear  from  thee  by  letters 
Of  thy  success  in  love,  and  what  news  else 
Betideth  here  in  absence  of  thy  friend  ; 
And  I  likewise  will  visit  thee  with  mine. 

Pro.  All  happiness  bechance  to  thee  in  Milan  ! 

Val.  As  much  to  you  at  home  !  and  so,  farewell.  \^Exit, 

Pro.  He  after  honor  hunts,  I  after  love  : 
He  leaves  his  friends  to  dignify  them  more  ; 
I  leave  myself,  my  friends,  and  all,  for  love. 
Thou,  Julia,  thou  hast  metamorphos'd  me,— 
Made  me  neglect  my  studies,  lose  my  time. 
War  with  good  counsel,  set  the  world  at  naught  ; 
Made  wit  with  musing  weak,  heart  sick  with  thought. 

Enter  Speed. 

Speed.  Sir  Proteus,  save  you  !  Saw  you  my  master  ? 

Pro.  But  now  he  parted  hence,  t' embark  for  Milan. 

speed.  Twenty  to  one,  then,  he  is  shipp'd  already, 
And  I  have  play'd  the  sheep  in  losing  him. 

Pro.  Indeed,  a  sheep  doth  very  often  stray. 
An  if  the  shepherd  be  awhile  away. 

speed.  You  conclude  that  my  master  is  a  shepherd, 
then,  and  I  a  sheep  ? 

Pro.  I  do. 

Speed.  Why,  then,   my  horns  are  his  horns,  whether  I 
wake  or  sleep. 

Pro.  A  silly  answer,  and  fitting  well  a  sheep. 

Speed.  This  proves  me  still  a  sheep. 

Pro.  True  ;  and  thy  master  a  shepherd. 

speed.  Nay,  that  I  can  deny  by  a  circumstance. 

Pro.  It  shall  go  hard  but  I'll  prove  it  by  another. 

Speed.  The  shepherd  seeks  the  sheep,  and  not  the  sheep 
the  shepherd  ;  but  I  seek  my  master,  and  my  master  seeks 
not  me  :  therefore  I  am  no  sheep. 

Pro.  The  sheep  for  fodder  follow  the  shepherd,  the 
shepherd  for  food  follows  not  the  sheep ;  thou  for  wages 

T.G.V.  5.]  I.  311. 


Act/.]  TtVO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scenr } 

foUowest  thy  master,  thy  master  for  wages  follows  not 
thee  :  therefore  thou  art  a  sheep. 

Speed.  Such  another  proof  will  make  me  cry  "  baa." 

Pro.  But,  dost  thou  hear  }  gavest  thou  my  letter  to  Julia  } 

Speed.  Ay,  sir  :  I,  a  lost  mutton,  gave  your  letter  to  her, 
a  laced  mutton  ;  and  she,  a  laced  mutton,  gave  me,  a  lust 
mutton,  nothing  for  my  labor. 

Pro.  Here's  too  small  a  pasture  for  such  store  of  muttons. 

Speed,  If  the  ground  be  overcharged,  you  were  best 
stick  her. 

Pro.  Nay,  in  that  you  are  a  stray,  'twere  best  pound  you. 

Speed.  Nay,  sir,  less  than  a  pound  shall  serve  me  for 
carrying  your  letter. 

Pro.  You  mistake  ;  I  mean  the  pound, —  a  pinfold. 

Speed.  From  a  pound  to  a  pin  ?  fold  it  over  and  over, 
'Tis  threefold  too  little  for  carrying  a  letter  to  your  lover. 

Pro.  But  what  said  she  ? 

Speed  {nodding.]  Ay. 

Pro,  Nod,  Ay  .''  —  why,  that's  noddy. 

Speed,  You  mistook,  sir ;  I  say,  she  did  nod  :  and  you 
ask  me  if  she  did  nod  ;  and  I  say,  Ay. 

Pro,  And  that  set  together  is  —  noddy. 

Speed.  Now  you  have  taken  the  pains  to  set  it  together, 
take  it  for  your  pains. 

Pro,  No,  no  ;  you  shall  have  it  for  bearing  the  letter. 

Speed.  Well,  I  perceive  I  must  be  fain  to  bear  with 
you. 

Pro.  Why,  sir,  how  do  you  bear  with  me  ? 

Speed.  Marry,  sir,  the  letter  very  orderly  ;  having  noth- 
ing but  the  word  "  noddy  "  for  my  pains. 

Pro,  Beshrew  me,  but  you  have  a  quick  wit. 

Speed.  And  yet  it  cannot  overtake  your  slow  jiurse. 

Pro.  Come,  come,  open  the  matter  in  brief ;  what 
said  she  } 

Speed.  Open  your  purse,  that  the  money  and  the  mat- 
ter may  be  both  at  once  delivered. 

Pro.  Well,  sir,  here  is  for  your  pains  {Giving  him 
money. \     What  said  she? 

Speed.  Truly,  sir,  I  think  you'll  hardly  win  her. 

Pro.  Why,  couldst  thou  perceive  so  much  from  her  ? 

speed.  Sir,  1  could  perceive  nothing  at  all  from  her; 

no,  not  so  much  as  a  ducat  for  delivering  your  letter  : 

1.32a.  [t.g.t.  6. 


Act/.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [SceHe /i 

and  being  so  hard  to  me  that  brought  your  mind,  I  fear 
she'll  prove  as  hard  to  you  in  telling  your  mind.  Give 
her  no  token  but  stones  ;  for  she's  as  hard  as  steel. 

Fro.   What,  said  she  nothing  ? 

Speed.  No,  not  so  much  as  "  Take  this  for  thy  pains." 
To  testify  your  bounty,  I  thank  you,  you  have  testerned 
me  ;  in  requital  whereof,  henceforth  carry  your  letters 
yourself  :  and  so,  sir,  I'll  commend  you  to  my  master. 

Pro.  Go,  go,  be  gone,  to  save  your  ship  from  wreck. 
Which  cannot  perish  having  thee  aboard. 
Being  destin'd  to  a  dryer  death  on  shore.       \^Exit  Speed, 
I  must  go  send  some  better  messenger : 
I  fear  my  Julia  would  not  deign  my  lines, 
Receiving  them  from  such  a  worthless  post.  [Exit. 

Scene  II.    The  same.   The  garden  <?/"  Julia'S  house. 
Enter  JULIA  and  LUCETTA. 

Jill.  But  say,  Lucetta,  now  we  are  alone, 
Wouldst  thou,  then,  counsel  me  to  fall  in  love  ? 

Luc.  Ay,  madam  ;  so  you  stumble  not  unheedfully. 

Jul.  Of  all  the  fair  resort  of  gentlemen 
That  every  day  with  parle  encounter  me. 
In  thy  opinion  which  is  worthiest  love  .' 

Luc.  Please  you  repeat  their  names,  I'll  show  my  mind 
According  to  my  shallow-simple  skill. 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  fair  Sir  Eglamour.^ 

Luc.  As  of  a  knight  well-spoken,  neat,  and  fine  ; 
But,  were  I  you,  he  never  should  be  mine. 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  rich  Mercatio  } 

Luc.  Well  of  his  wealth  ;  but  of  himself,  so-so. 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  gentle  Proteus  } 

Luc.  Lord,  lord  !  to  see  what  folly  reigns  in  us  ! 

Jul.  How  now  !  what  means  this  passion  at  his  name  ? 

Luc.  Pardon,  dear  madam  :  'tis  a  passing  shame 
That  I,  unworthy  body  as  I  am, 
Should  censure  thus  on  lovely  gentlemen. 

Jul.  Why  not  on  Proteus,  as  of  all  the  rest.' 

Luc.  Then  thus, —  of  many  good  I  think  him  best. 

Jul.   Your  reason  .-' 

Luc.\\  have  no  other  but  a  woman's  reason; 
I  think  him  so,  because  I  think  him  so, 

T.C.V.  7.]  I.  333. 


Aci/.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [S-ent //. 

Jul.  And  wouldst  thou  have  me  cast  my  love  on  him  ? 

Luc.  Ay,  if  you  thought  your  love  not  cast  away. 

Jul.  Why,  he,  of  all  the  rest,  hath  never  mov'd  me. 

Luc.  Yet  he,  of  all  the  rest,  I  think,  best  loves  ye. 

Jul.  His  little  speaking  shows  his  love  but  small. 

Luc.^  Fire  that's  closest  kept  burns  most  of  all.  < 

Jul.  They  do  not  love  that  do  not  show  their  love. 

Luc.  ((p,  they  love  least  that  let  men  know  their  love. 

Jul.  I  would  I  knew  his  mind.  -^ 

Luc.  Peruse  this  paper,  madam.  {Gives  a  letter. 

Jul.  [reads]  "  To  Julia." —  Say,  from  whom  .'' 

Luc.  That  the  contents  will  show. 

Jul.  Say,  say,  who  gave  it  thee  .' 

Luc.  Sir  Valentine's   page  ;    and    sent,    I  think,    from 
Proteus. 
He  would  have  given  it  you  ;  but  I,  being  in  the  way, 
Did  in  your  name  receive  it :  pardon  the  fault,  I  pray. 

Jul.  Now,  by  my  modesty,  a  goodly  broker  ! 
Dare  you  presume  to  harbor  wanton  lines  ? 
To  whisper  and  conspire  against  my  youth  } 
Now,  trust  me,  'tis  an  office  of  great  worth, 
And  you  an  officer  fit  for  the  place. 
There,  take  the  paper  :  see  it  be  return 'd  ; 
Or  else  return  no  more  into  my  sight. 

Luc.  To  plead  for  love  deserves  more  fee  than  bate. 

Jul.  Will  ye  be  gone  } 

Luc.  That  you  may  ruminate.    [Exii. 

Jul.  And  yet  I  would  I  had  o'erlook'd  the  letter : 
It  were  a  shame  to  call  her  back  again, 
And  pray  her  to  a  fault  for  which  I  chid  her. 
What  fool  is  she,  that  knows  I  am  a  maid, 
And  would  not  force  the  letter  to  my  view, — 
Since  maids,  in  modesty,  say  "  No  "  to  that 
Which  they  would  have  the  profYerer  construe  "  Ay  "  ' 
Fie,  fie,  how  wayward  is  this  foolish  lov-e, 
That,  like  a  testy  babe,  will  scratch  the  nurse, 
And  presently,  all  humbled,  kiss  the  rod  ! 
How  churlishly  I  chid  Lucetta  hence. 
When  willingly  I  would  have  had  her  here  ! 
How  angerly  I  taught  my  brow  to  frown, 
When  inward  joy  enforc'd  my  heart  to  smile  ! 
My  penance  is,  to  call  Lucetta  back, 

1.  324.  [t.g.v.  8. 


Ac//.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  I'ERONA.  [Scene//. 

And  ask  remission  for  my  folly  past. — 
What,  ho  !  Lucetta  ! 

Re-enter  LuCETTA. 

Ltcc.  What  would  your  ladyship  ? 

Jul.   Is  it  near  dinner-time  ? 

Luc.  I  would  it  were, 

That  you  might  kill  your  stomach  on  your  meat, 
And  not  upon  your  maid. 

Jul.  What  is't  that  you  took  up  so  gingerly  ? 

Luc.  Nothing. 

Jul.  Why  didst  thou  stoop,  then  } 

Luc.  To  take  a  paper  up  that  I  let  fall. 

Jul.  And  is  that  paper  nothing  } 

Luc.  Nothing  concerning  me. 

Jul.  Then  let  it  lie  for  those  that  it  concerns. 

Luc.  Madam,  it  will  not  lie  where  it  concerns. 
Unless  it  have  a  false  interpreter. 

Jul.  Some  love  of  yours  hath  writ  to  you  in  rhyme. 

Luc.  That  I  might  sing  it,  madam,  to  a  tune. 
Give  me  a  note  :  your  ladyship  can  set. 

Jul.  As  little  by  such  toys  as  may  be  possible. 
Best  sing  it  to  the  tune  of  Light  o'  love. 

Luc.   It  is  too  heavy  for  so  light  a  tune. 

Jul.  Heavy!  belike  it  hath  some  burden,  then.'' 

Luc.  Ay;  and  melodious  were  it,  would  you  sing  it. 

Jul.  And  why  not  you  } 

Luc.  I  cannot  reach  so  high. 

Jul.  Let's  see  your  song   [Taking  t/ie  letter\     How 
now,  minion  ! 

Luc.  Keep  tune  there  still,  so  you  will  sing  it  out  : 
And  yet  methinks  I  do  not  like  this  tune. 

Jul.  You  do  not .'' 

Luc.  No,  madam  ;  it  is  too  sharp. 

Jul.  You,  minion,  are  too  saucy. 

Luc.  Nay,  now  you  are  too  flat. 
And  mar  the  concord  with  too  harsh  a  descant ; 
There  wanteth  but  a  mean  to  fill  your  song. 

Jul.  The  mean  is  drown'd   with  your  unruly  base. 

Luc.  Indeed,  I  bid  the  base  for  Proteus. 

Jul.  This  babble  shall  not  henceforth  trouble  me  :  — 
Here  is  a  coil  with  protestation  !  —  [  Tears  the  letter. 

T.G.v.  9.]  1.325- 


Act/.]  Tiro  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  II. 

Go  get  you  gone,  and  let  the  papers  lie  : 
You  would  be  fingering  them,  to  anger  me. 

Luc.  She   makes  it  strange  ;    but  she  would  be  best 
pleas'd 
To  be  so  anger'd  with  another  letter.  [Exit. 

Jul.  Nay,  would  I  were  so  anger'd  with  the  same ! 

0  hateful  hands,  to  tear  such  loving  words  ! 
Injurious  wasps,  to  feed  on  such  sweet  honey, 
And  kill  the  bees,  that  yield  it,  with  your  stings ! 
I'll  kiss  each  several  paper  for  amends. 

Look,  here  is  writ  —  "  kind  Julia  ;  " —  unkind  Julia  ! 
As  in  revenge  of  thy  ingratitude, 

1  throw  thy  name  against  the  bruising  stones, 
Trampling  contemptuously  on  thy  disdain. 
And  here  is  writ — "  love-wounded  Proteus  :  " — 
Poor  wounded  name  !  my  bosom,  as  a  bed, 

Shall  lodge  thee,  till  thy  wound  be  throughly  heal'd  ; 

And  thus  I  search  it  with  a  sovereign  kiss. 

But  twice  or  thrice  was  "  Proteus  "  written  down  :  — 

Be  calm,  good  wind,  blow  not  a  word  away. 

Till  I  have  found  each  letter  in  the  letter, 

Except  mine  own  name  :  that  some  whirlwind  bear 

Unto  a  ragged,  fearful-hanging  rock. 

And  throw  it  thence  into  the  raging  sea  !  — 

Lo,  here  in  one  line  is  his  name  twice  writ, — 

"  Poor  forlorn  Proteus,  passionate  Proteus, 

To  the  sweet  Julia  :  " —  that  I'll  tear  away  ;  — 

And  yet  I  will  not,  sith  so  prettily 

He  couples  it  to  his  complaining  names. 

Thus  will  I  fold  them  one  upon  another : 

Now  kiss,  embrace,  contend,  do  what  you  will. 

Re-enter  LUCETTA. 

Luc.  Madam, 
Dinner  is  ready,  and  your  father  stays. 

Jul.  Well,  let  us  go. 

Luc.  What,  shall  these  papers  lie  like  tell-tales  here.' 

Jill.  If  you  respect  them,  best  to  take  them  up. 

Luc.  Nay,  I  was  taken  up  for  laying  them  down  : 
Yet  here  they  shall  not  lie,  for  catching  cold. 

Jul.  I  see  you  have  a  month's  mind  to  them. 

Luc.  Ay,  madam,  you  may  say  what  sights  you  see  ; 

I.  326.  [t.g.v.  i<»- 


Act/.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene  III. 

I  see  things  too,  although  you  judge  I  wink. 
/id.  Come,  come  ;  will't  please  you  go  ?  [Exeunt, 

Scene  III.    The  satne.     A  room  in  Antonio's  house. 

Enter  Antonio  and  Panthino. 

Ant.  Tell  me,  Panthino,  what  sad  talk  was  that 
Wherewith  my  brother  held  you  in  the  cloister  } 

Pan.  'Twas  of  his  nephew  Proteus,  your  son. 

Ant.  Why,  what  of  him  } 

Pan.  He  wonder'd  that  your  lordship 

Would  suffer  him  to  spend  his  youth  at  home 
While  other  men,  of  slender  reputation, 
Put  forth  their  sons  to  seek  preferment  out : 
Some  to  the  wars,  to  try  their  fortune  there; 
Some  to  discover  islands  far  away  ; 
Some  to  the  studious  universities. 
For  any.  or  for  all  these  exercises, 
He  said  that  Proteus  your  son  was  meet  ; 
And  did  request  me  to  importune  you 
To  let  him  spend  his  time  no  more  at  home, 
W^hich  would  be  great  impeachment  to  his  age, 
In  having  known  no  travel  in  his  youth. 

Ant.  Nor  need'st  thou  much  importune  me  to  that 
Whereon  this  month  I  have  been  hammering. 
I  have  consider'd  w^ell  his  loss  of  time. 
And  how  he  cannot  be  a  perfect  man. 
Not  being  tried  and  tutor'd  in  the  world  : 
Experience  is  by  industry  achiev'd. 
And  perfected  by  the  swift  course  of  time. 
Then,  tell  me,  whither  were  I  best  to  send  him  ? 

Pan.   I  think  your  lordship  is  not  ignorant 
How  his  companion,  youthful  Valentine, 
Attends  the  emperor  in  his  roj-al  court. 

Ant.  I  know  it  well. 

Pan.  'Twere  good,    I  think,    your  lordship  sent   him 
thither  : 
There  shall  he  practice  tilts  and  tournaments. 
Hear  sweet  discourse,  converse  with  noblemen, 
And  be  in  eye  of  every  exercise 
Worthy  his  youth  and  nobleness  of  birth. 

Ant.  I  like  thy  counsel  ;  well  hast  thou  advis'd  : 
r.G.v.  ii]  I.  327. 


AcU.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN'  OF  VEHONA.  {Scene  III. 

And  that  thou  mayst  perceive  how  well  I  like  it. 

The  execution  of  it  shall  make  known. 

Even  with  the  speediest  expedition 

I  will  dispatch  him  to  the  emperor's  court. 

Pan.  To-morrow,  may  it  please  you,  Don  Alphonso, 
With  other  gentlemen  of  good  esteem, 
Are  journeying  to  salute  the  emperor, 
And  to  commend  their  service  to  his  will. 

Ant.  Good  company  ;  with  them  shall  Proteus  go  : 
And, —  in  good  time  :  —  now  will  we  break  with  him. 


Enter  PROTEUS. 

Pro.  Sweet  love  !  sweet  lines  !  sweet  life  ! 
Here  is  her  hand,  the  agent  of  her  heart ; 
Here  is  her  oath  for  love,  her  honor's  pawn. 
O,  that  our  fathers  would  applaud  our  loves. 
To  seal  our  happiness  with  their  consents  ! 

0  heavenly  Julia  ! 

Ant.  How  now  !  what  letter  are  you  reading  there? 

Pro.  May't  please  your  lordship,  'tis  a  word  or  two 
Of  commendations  sent  from  \'alentine, 
Deliver'd  by  a  friend  that  came  from  him. 

Ant.  Lend  me  the  letter  ;  let  me  see  what  news. 

Pro.  There  is  no  news,  my  lord  ;  but  that  he  writes 
How  happily  he  lives,  how  well  belov'd. 
And  daily  graced  by  the  emperor  ; 
Wishing  me  with  him,  partner  of  his  fortune. 

Ant.  And  how  stand  you  affected  to  his  wish  ? 

Pro.   As  one  relying  on  your  lordship's  will, 
And  not  depending  on  his  friendly  wish. 

Ant.  My  will  is  something  sorted  with  his  wish. 
Muse  not  that  I  thus  suddenly  proceed  ; 
For  what  I  will,  I  will,  and  there  an  end. 

1  am  resolv'd  that  thou  shalt  spend  some  time 
With  Valentinus  in  the  emperor's  court  : 
What  maintenance  he  from  his  friends  receives. 
Like  exhibition  thou  shalt  have  from  me. 
To-morrow  be  in  readiness  to  go  : 

Excuse  it  not,  for  I  am  peremptory. 

Pro.  My  lord,  I  cannot  be  so  soon  provided  : 
Please  you,  dehberate  a  day  or  two. 

Ant.  Look,  what  thou  want'st  shall  be  sent  after  thee  : 

1.  328.  [t.G.V.  12. 


Act  //.]  TIVO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Sce^e /. 

No  more  of  stay  ;  to-morrow  thou  must  go. — 

Come  on,  Panthino  :  you  shall  be  employ 'd 

To  hasten  on  his  expedition.         yExeitnt  Ant.  and  Pan. 

Pro.  Thus  have  I  shunn'd  the  fire  for  fear  of  burning. 
And  drench 'd  me  in  the  sea,  where  I  am  drown 'd. 
1  fear'd  to  show  my  father  Julia's  letter. 
Lest  he  should  take  exceptions  to  my  love ; 
And  with  the  v-antage  of  mine  own  excuse 
Hath  he  excepted  most  against  my  love. 
O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth 

Th'  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day, 
Which  now  shows  all  the  beauty  of  the  sun, 

And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  away  ! 

Re-enter  Panthino. 

Pan.  Sir  Proteus,  your  father  calls  for  you  : 
He  is  in  haste  ;  therefore,  I  pray  you,  go. 

Pro.  Why,  this  it  is, —  my  heart  accords  thereto, 
And  yet  a  thousand  times  it  answers.  No.  {^Exeunt. 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.    Milan.     A  room  m  t/te  Tiukt's  palace. 

Enter  Valentine  and  Speed. 

speed,  [picking  tip  a  gloz'e'\  Sir,  your  glove. 

Val.  Not  mine;  my  gloves  are  on. 

speed.  Why,  then,  this    may    be   yours,  for  this  is  but 
one. 

Val.  Ha,  let  me  see  :  ay,  give  it  me,  it's  mine :  — 
Sweet  ornament  that  decks  a  thing  divine ! 
Ah,  Silvia,  Silvia ! 

Speed,  [calling]  Madam  Silvia,  Madam  Silvia ! 

Val.  How  now,  sirrah  ! 

speed.  She  is  not  within  hearing,  sir. 

Val.  Why,  sir,  who  bade  you  call  her  ? 

speed.  Your  worship,  sir ;  or  else  1  mistook. 

Val.  Well,  you'll  still  be  too  forward. 

Speed.  And  yet  I  was  last  chidden  for  being  too  slow. 

Val.  Go  to,  sir  :  do  you  know  Madam  Silvia .'' 

Speed.  She  that  your  worship  loves  ? 

Val,  Why,  how  know  you  that  I  am  in  love  ? 

speed.  Marry,  by  these  special  marks  :    first,  you  have 
learned,  like  Sir   Proteus,    to   wreathe   your   arms,  like  a 

T.G.V.  13.]  I.   329. 


A.t  II.']  TWO  GEXTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene/. 

malcontent  ;  to  relish  a  love-song,  like  a  robin-redbreast  ; 
to  walk  alone,  like  one  that  had  the  pestilence  ;  to  sigh, 
like  a  school-boy  that  had  lost  his  ABC;  to  weep,  like 
a  young  wench  that  had  buried  her  grandam  :  to  fast, 
like  one  that  takes  diet  ;  to  watch,  like  one  that  fears  rob- 
bing ;  to  speak  puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Hallowmas. 
You  were  wont,  when  you  laughed,  to  crow  like  a  cock  ; 
when  you  walked,  to  walk  like  one  of  the  lions  ; 
when  you  fasted,  it  was  presently  after  dinner;  when  you 
looked  sadly,  it  was  for  want  of  money  :  and  now  you  are 
metamorphosed  with  a  mistress,  that,  when  1  look  on 
you,  I  can  hardly  think  you  my  master. 

Va/.  Are  all  these  things  perceived  in  me  ? 

Speed.  They  are  all  perceived  without  ye. 

Val.  Without  me  !  they  cannot. 

Speed.  Without  you  !  nay,  that's  certain,  for,  without 
you  were  so  simple,  none  else  would  :  but  you  are  so 
without  these  follies,  that  these  follies  are  within  you,  and 
shine  through  you  like  the  water  in  an  urinal,  that  not  an 
eye  that  sees  you  but  is  a  physician  to  comment  on  your 
malady. 

Val.  But  tell  me,  dost  thou  know  my  lady  Silvia  ? 

Speed.  She  that  you  gaze  on  so  as  she  sits  at  supper .'' 

Val.  Hast  tliou  observed  that .''  even  she  I  mean. 

Speed.  Why,  sir,  I  know  her  not. 

Val.  Dost  thou  know  her  by  my  gazing  on  her,  and 
yet  knowest  her  not .'' 

Speed.   Is  she  not  hard  favor'd,  sir  } 

Val.  Not  so  fair,  boy,  as  well-favored. 

Speed.  Sir,  I  know  that  well  enough. 

Val.  What  dost  thou  know  } 

Speed.  That  she  is  not  so  fair  as,  of  you,  well  favored. 

Val.  I  mean,  that  her  beauty  is  exquisite,  but  her  fa- 
vor infinite. 

Speed.  That's  because  the  one  is  painted,  and  the 
other  out  of  all  count. 

Val.  How  painted  }  and  how  out  of  count  } 

Speed.  Marry,  sir,  so  painted,  to  make  her  fair,  that  no 
man  counts  of  her  beauty. 

Val.  How  esteemest  thou  me  ?  I  account  of  her  beauty. 

speed.  You  never  saw  her  since  she  was  deformed. 

Val.  How  long  hath  she  been  deformed  .-* 

I.  330.  [t.c.v.  14. 


Act//.]  TIVO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  I. 

speed.  Ever  since  you  loved  her. 

VaL  I  have  loved  her  ever  since  I  saw  her ;  and  still 
I  see  her  beautiful. 

Speed.  If  you  love  her,  you  cannot  see  her. 

Val.  Why.? 

Speed.  Because  Love  is  blind.  O,  that  you  had  mine 
eyes  ;  or  your  own  eyes  had  the  lights  they  were  wont  to 
have  when  you  chid  at  Sir  Proteus  for  going  ungartered  ! 

VaL  What  should  I  see  then  .-' 

Speed.  Your  own  present  folly,  and  her  passing  de- 
formity :  for  he,  being  in  love,  could  not  see  to  garter  his 
hose  ;  and  you,  being  in  love,  cannot  see  to  put  on  your 
hose. 

Vai.  Belike,  boy,  then,  you  are  in  love  ;  for  last  morn- 
ing you  could  not  see  to  wipe  my  shoes. 

Speed.  True,  sir ;  I  was  in  love  with  my  bed  :  I  thank 
you,  you  swinged  me  for  my  love,  which  makes  me  the 
bolder  to  chide  you  for  yours. 

VaL  In  conclusion,  I  stand  affected  to  her. 

Speed.  I  would  you  were  set  ;  so  your  affection  would 
cease. 

VaL  Last  night  she  enjoined  me  to  write  some  lines 
to  one  she  loves. 

Speed.  And  have  you  } 

VaL  I  have. 

Speed.  Are  they  not  lamely  writ } 

VaL  No,  boy,  but  as  well  as  I  can  do  them. —  Peace  ! 
here  she  comes. 

Speed,  [aside']  O  excellent  motion  !  O  exceeding  puppet ! 
Now  will  he  interpret  to  her. 

Enter  Silvia. 

VaL  Madam  and  mistress,  a  thousand  good-morrows. 

Speed,  [aside]  O,  give  ye  good  even  !  here's  a  million 
of  manners. 

SiL  Sir  Valentine  and  servant,  to  you  two  thousand. 

Speed,  [aside]  He  should  give  her  interest,  and  she 
gives  it  him. 

VaL  As  you  enjoin'd  me,  I  have  writ  your  letter 
Unto  the  secret  nameless  friend  of  yours  ; 
Which  I  was  much  unwilling  to  proceed  m, 
But  for  my  duty  to  your  ladyship.  [Gives  a  letter. 

r.G.v.  15.]  I.  331. 


Actll.']  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF   VERONA  [Scene  I 

Sil.  I  thank  you,  gentle  servant  •  'tis  very  clerkly  done 
Val.  Now  trust  me,  madam,  it  came  hardly  off . 

For,  being  ignorant  to  whom  it  goes, 

I  writ  at  random,  very  doubtfully. 

St'l.  Perchance  you  think   too  much  of  so  much  pains  I 
Val.  No,  madam  ;  so  it  stead  you,  1  will  write. 

Please  you  command,  a  thousand  times  as  much  . 

And  yet, — 

Sil.  A  pretty  period  !  Well,  I  guess  the  sequel ; 

And  yet  I  will  not  name't  ;  —  and  yet  I  care  not ;  — 

And  yet  take  this  again  ;  —  and  yet  I  thank  you  ; 

Meaning  henceforth  to  trouble  you  no  more. 

Speed,  {as^de^^  And  yet  you  will  ;  and  yet  another  "  yet." 
Val.  What  means  your  ladyship  }  do  you  not  like  it .'' 
Sil.   Yes,  yes  ;  the  lines  are  very  quaintly  writ  ; 

Bat  since  unwillingly,  take  them  again  ; 

Nay,  take  them.  [Gii'es  back  tlie  letter. 

Val.  Madam,  they  are  for  you. 

Sil.  Ay,  ay,  you  writ  them,  sir,  at  my  request ; 
But  I  will  none  of  them  ;  they  are  for  you  : 
I  would  have  had  them  writ  more  movingly. 

Val.   Please  you,  I'll  write  your  ladyship  another. 

Sil.  And  when  it's  writ,  for  my  sake  read  it  over  : 
And  if  it  please  you,  so;  if  not,  why,  so. 

Val.  If  it  please  me,  madam  !  what  then  .'' 

Sil.  Why,  if  it  please  you,  take  it  for  your  labor : 
And  so,  good  morrow,  servant.  \Exit. 

Speed.  O  jest  unseen,  inscrutable,  invisible, 
As  a  nose  on  a  man's  face,  or  a  weathercock  on  a  steeple  I 
My  master  sues  to  her ;  and  she  hath  taught  her  suitor. 
He  being  her  pupil,  to  become  her  tutor. 
O  excellent  device  !  was  there  ever  heard  a  better. 
That  my  master,  being  scribe,  to  himself  should  write  the 
letter  .> 

V^al.  How  now,  sir  !  what  are  you  reasoning  with  your- 
self ? 

Speed.  Nay,  I  was  rhyming  :  'tis  you  that  have  the  reason. 

Val.  To  do  what  ? 

Speed.  To  be  a  spokesman  from  Madam  Silvia. 

Val.  To  whom  ? 

Speed.  To  yourself :  why,  she  wooes  you  by  a  figure. 

Val.  What  figure  } 

I.  332.  [t.g.v.  16. 


Act//.]  TIVO  GE.VTLEME.V  OF  I'EROyA.  [Scene  I/. 

speed.  By  a  letter,  I  should  say. 

Val.  Why,  she  hath  not  writ  to  me  ? 

Speed.  What  need  she,  when  she  hath  made  you  write 
to  yourself  ?  Why,  do  you  not  perceive  the  jest  ? 

Val.  No,  believe  me. 

Speed.  No  believing  you,  indeed,  sir.  But  did  you  per- 
ceive her  earnest  ? 

Val.  She  gave  me  none,  except  an  angry  word. 

Speed.  Why,  she  hath  given  you  a  letter. 

Val.  That's  the  letter  I  writ  to  her  friend. 

Speed.  And  that  letter  hath  she  delivered,  and  there  an 
end. 

Val.  I  would  it  were  no  worse. 

Speed.  I'll  warrant  you,  'tis  as  well: 
For  often  have  you  writ  to  her ;  and  she,  in  modesty, 
Or  else  for  want  of  idle  time,  could  not  again  reply  ; 
Or   fearing  else  some  messenger    that  might  her  mind 

discover. 
Herself  hath  taught  her  love  himself  to  write  unto  her  lover. 
All  this  I  speak  in   print,  for  in  print  I  found  it. —  Why 
muse  you,  sir  }  'tis  dinner-time. 

Val.  I  have  dined. 

Speed.  Ay,  but  hearken,  sir ;  though  the  chameleon 
Love  can  feed  on  the  air,  I  am  one  that  am  nourished  by 
my  victuals,  and  would  fain  have  meat.  O,  be  not  like 
your  mistress  ;  be  moved,  be  mo\ed.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.    I'ero/ia.     The  garden  ^  Julia'S  house. 

isV^A'r  Proteus  (?«(/ Julia. 
Pro.  Have  patience,  gentle  Julia. 
Jul.  I  must,  where  is  no  remedv. 
Pro.  When  possibly  I  can,  I  will  return. 
Jul.   If  you  turn  not,  you  will  return  the  sooner. 
Keep  this  remembrance  forthv  Julia's  sake. 

[Gives  him  a  ring. 
Pro.  Why,  then,  we'll  make  exchange  ;  here,  take  you 
this.  [Gives  her  another, 

Jul.  And  seal  the  bargain  with  a  holy  kiss. 
Pro.  Here  is  my  hand  for  my  true  constancy  ; 
And  when  that  hour  o'erslips  me  in  the  day 
Wherein  I  sigh  not,  Julia,  for  thy  sake. 
The  next  ensuing  hour  some  foul  mischance 

T.G.V.   17,]  I.  333. 


Aci//.]  TWO  GEXTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {.Scene  III. 

Torment  me  for  my  love's  forgetfulness  ! 

My  father  stays  my  coming  ;  answer  not ; 

The  tide  is  now  :  —  nay,  not  thy  tide  of  tears  ; 

That  tide  will  stay  me  longer  than  I  should  : 

Julia,  farewell  !  [Exit  Julia, 

What,  gone  without  a  word  ? 
Ay,  so  true  love  should  do  :  it  cannot  speak  ; 
For  truth  hath  better  deeds  than  words  to  grace  it. 

Enter  Pa  NTH  I  NO. 
Pan.  Sir  Proteus,  you  are  stay'd  for. 
Por.  Go  ;  I  come,  I  come  :  — 
Alas,  this  parting  strikes  poor  lovers  dumb  !        [Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  The  same.  A  street. 
Enter  Launce,  leading  a  dog. 
Launce.  Nay,  'twill  be  this  hour  ere  I  have  done 
weeping  ;  all  the  kind  of  the  Launces  have  this  very  fault. 
I  have  received  my  proportion,  like  the  prodigious  son, 
and  am  going  with  Sir  Proteus  to  the  imperial's  court. 
I  think  Crab  my  dog  be  the  sourest-natuied  dog  that 
lives  :  my  mother  weeping,  my  father  wailing,  my  sister 
crying,  our  maid  howling,  our  cat  wringing  her  hands, 
and  all  our  house  in  a  great  perplexity,  yet  did  not  this 
cruel-hearted  cur  shed  one  tear:  he  is  a  stone,  a  very 
pebble-stone,  and  has  no  more  pity  in  him  than  a  dog: 
a  Jew  would  have  wept  to  have  seen  our  parting ;  why, 
my  grandam,  having  no  eyes,  look  you,  wept  herself 
blind  at  my  parting.  Nay,  I'll  show  you  the  manner  of 
it.  This  shoe  is  my  father;  —  no,  this  left  shoe  is  my 
father ;  —  no,  no,  this  left  shoe  is  my  mother  ;  —  nay,  that 
cannot  be  so  neither ;  —  yes,  it  is  so,  it  is  so, —  it  hath  the 
worser  sole.  This  shoe,  with  the  hole  in  it,  is  my  mother, 
and  this  my  father;  a  vengeance  on 't !  there  'tis:  now, 
sir,  this  staff  is  my  sister;  for,  look  you,  she  is  as  white  as 
ahly,  and  as  small  as  a  wand  :  this  hat  is  Nan,  our  maid  : 
I  am  the  dog  ;^- no,  the  dog  is  himself,  and  I  am  the 
dog, —  O,  the  dog  is  me,  and  I  am  myself ;  ay,  so,  so. 
Now  come  I  to  my  father  ;  "  Father,  your  blessing  ! " 
now  should  not  the  shoe  speak  a  word  for  weeping  :  now 
should  I  kiss  my  father ;  well,  he  weeps  on.  Now  come 
I  to  my  mother  ;  —  O,  that  the  shoe  could  speak  now  like 
I.  334.  [t.g.v.  18. 


Act  rr.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF   VERONA.  [Scene /V. 

a  wood  woman  !  —  well,  I  kiss  her  ;  —  why,  there  'tis  ; 
here's  my  mother's  breath  up  and  down.  Now  come  I  to 
my  sister  :  marls:  the  moan  she  makes.  Now  the  dog  all 
this  while  sheds  not  a  tear,  nor  speaks  a  word  :  but  see 
how  I  lay  the  dust  with  my  tears. 

Ente7'  Panthino. 

Pan.  Launce,  away,  away,  aboarfl  !  thy  master  is 
shipped,  and  thou  art  to  post  after  with  oars.  What's 
the  matter?  why  weepest  thou,  man  .''  Away,  ass  !  you'll 
lose  the  tide,  if  you  tarry  any  longer. 

Launce.  It  is  no  matter  if  the  tied  were  lost ;  for  it  is 
the  un kindest  tied  that  ever  any  man  tied. 

Paft.  What's  the  unkindest  tide.'* 

Launce.  Why,  he  that's  tied  here, —  Crab,  my  dog. 

Pan.  Tut,  man,  I  mean  thou'lt  lose  the  flood  :  and,  in 
losing  the  flood,  lose  thy  voyage  ;  and,  in  losing  thy  voy- 
age, lose  thy  master  ;  and,  in  losing  thy  master,  lose  thy 
service;  and,  in  losing  thy  service, —  Why  dost  thou  stop 
my  mouth  } 

Launce.  For  fear  thou  shouldst  lose  thy  tongue. 

Pan.  Where  should  I  lose  my  tongue  } 

Launce.  In  thy  tale. 

Pan.  In  my  tail  ! 

Launce.  Lose  the  tide,  and  the  voyage,  and  the  mas- 
ter, and  the  service,  and  the  tied  !  Why,  man.  if  the  river 
were  dry,  I  am  able  to  till  it  with  my  tears  ;  if  the  wind 
were  down,  I  could  drive  the  boat  with  my  sighs. 

Pa7i.  Come,  come  away,  man  ;  I  was  sent  to  call  thee. 

Launce.  Sir,  call  me  what  thou  darest. 

Pan.  Wilt  thou  go  .' 

Launce.  Well,  I  will  go.  [Exeunt, 

Scene  IV.     Milan.  A  room  in  the  Duke's /«/«£■<?. 

Enter  Silvia,  Valentine,  Thurio,  a«</ Speed. 
Sil.  Servant,— 
Val.  Mistress  } 

Speed.  Master,  Sir  Thurio  frowns  on  you. 
Val.  Ay,  boy,  it's  for  love. 
Speed.   Not  of  you. 
Val.  Of  my  mistress,  then. 
Speed.   'Twere  good  you  knocked  him. 
Sil.  Servant,  you  are  sad. 

T.O.V.  19.]  I.  335. 


Act  II r^  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene /y. 

Val.  Indeed,  madam,  I  seem  so. 

Thu.  Seem  you  that  you  are  not  ? 

Val.  Haply  I  do. 

Thu.  So  do  counterfeits. 

Val.  So  do  you. 

Thu.  What  seem  I  that  I  am  not  .-* 

Val.  Wise. 

Thji.  What  instance  of  the  contrary  } 

Val.  Your  folly. 

Thu.  And  how  quote  you  my  folly  .'* 

Val.  I  quote  it  in  your  jerkin. 

Thu.  My  jerkin  is  a  doublet. 

Val.  Well,  then,  I'll  double  your  folly. 

Thu.  How  ! 

Sil.  What,  angry,  Sir  Thurio  !  do  you  change  color  ? 

Val.  Give  him  leave,  madam  ;  he  is  a  kind  of  chame- 
leon. 

Thu.  That  hath  more  mind  to  feed  on  your  blood 
than  live  in  your  air. 

Val.  You  have  said,  sir. 

Thu.  Ay,  sir,  and  done  too,  for  this  time. 

Val.  I  know  it  well,  sir  ;  you  always  end  ere  you  begin. 

Szl.  A  fine  volley  of  words,  gentlemen,  and  quickly 
shot  off. 

Val.  'Tis  indeed,  madam  ;  we  thank  the  giver. 

Stl.  Who  is  that,  servant  } 

Val.  Yourself,  sweet  lady ;  for  you  gave  the  fire. 
Sir  Thurio  borrows  his  wit  from  your  ladyship's  looks, 
and  spends  what  he  borrows  kindly  in  your  company. 

Thu.  Sir,  if  you  spend  word  for  word  with  me,  I  shall 
make  your  wit  bankrupt. 

Val.  I  know  it  well,  sir;  you  have  an  exchequer  of 
words,  and,  I  think,  no  other  treasure  to  give  your  fol- 
lowers,—  for  it  appears,  by  their  bare  liveries,  that  they 
live  by  your  bare  words. 

Sil.  No  more,  gentlemen,  no  more  :  —  here  comes  my 
father. 

Enter  Duke. 

Duke.   Now,  daughter  Silvia,  you  are  hard  beset. — 
Sir  Valentine,  your  father's  in  good  health  : 
What  say  you  to  a  letter  from  your  friends 
Of  much  good  news  } 

1.  336.  [t.g.v.  »o. 


Aci/r]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene  TV. 

Val.  My  lord,  I  will  be  thankful 

To  any  happy  messenger  from  thence. 

Duke.  Know  ye  Don  Antonio,  your  countryman  ? 

Val.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  I  know  the  gentleman 
To  be  of  worth  and  worthy  estimation. 
And  not  without  desert  so  well  reputed. 

Duke.  Hath  he  not  a  son  ? 

Val.  Ay,  my  good  lord  ;  a  son  that  well  deserv^es 
The  honor  and  regard  of  such  a  father. 

Duke.  You  know  him  well .' 

Val.  I  know  him  as  myself ;  for  from  our  infancy 
We  have  convers'd  and  spent  our  hours  together : 
And  though  myself  have  been  an  idle  truant. 
Omitting  the  sweet  benefit  of  time 
To  clothe  mine  age  with  angel-like  perfection. 
Yet  hath  Sir  Proteus,  for  that's  his  name. 
Made  use  and  fair  advantage  of  his  days  ; 
His  years  but  young,  but  his  experience  old  ; 
His  head  unmellow'd,  but  his  judgment  ripe  ; 
And,  in  a  word, —  for  far  behind  his  worth 
Come  all  the  praises  that  I  now  bestow, — 
He  is  complete  in  feature  and  in  mind. 
With  all  good  grace  to  grace  a  gentleman. 

Duke.  Beshrew  me,  sir,  but  if  he  make  this  good, 
He  is  as  worthy  for  an  empress'  love 
As  meet  to  be  an  emperor's  counsellor. 
Well,  sir;  this  gentleman  is  come  to  me, 
With  commendation  from  great  potentates  ; 
And  here  he  means  to  spend  his  time  awhile  : 
I  think  'tis  no  unwelcome  news  to  you. 

Val.  Should  I  have  wish'd  a  thing  it  had  been  he. 

Duke.  Welcome  him,  then,  according  to  his  worth  ; 
Silvia,  I  speak  to  you ;  and  you,  Sir  Thurio  :  ^ 
For  Valentine,  I  need  not  cite  him  to  it : 
I'll  send  him  hither  to  you  presently.  \^Exit. 

Val.  This  is  the  gentleman  I  told  your  ladyship 
Had  come  along  with  me,  but  that  his  mistress 
Did  hold  his  eyes  lock'd  in  her  crystal  looks. 

Sil.  Belike  that  now  she  hath  enfranchis'd  them, 
Upon  some  other  pawn  for  fealty. 

Val.  Nay,  sure,  I  think  she  holds  them  prisoners  still. 

T.G.V.Sl.]  1.337- 


A.t//.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  IV. 

Sil.  Nay,  then,  he  should  be  blind ;  and,  being  blind, 
riow  could  he  see  his  way  to  seek  out  you  ? 

Val.  Why,  lady,  Love  hath  twenty  pair  of  eyes. 

Thii.  They  say  that  Love  hath  not  an  eye  at  all. 

Val.  To  see  such  lovers,  Thurio,  as  yourself : 
Upon  a  homely  object  Love  can  wink. 

Sil.  Have  done,  have  done  ;    here  comes  the  gentle- 
man. 

Enter  PROTEUS. 

Val.  Welcome,  dear  Proteus  !  —  Mistress,  I  beseech 
you, 
Confirm  his  welcome  with  some  special  favor. 

Sil.  His  worth  is  warrant  for  his  welcome  hither, 
If  this  be  he  you  oft  have  wish'd  to  hear  from. 

Val.  Mistress,  it  is  :  sweet  lady,  entertain  him 
To  be  my  fellow-servant  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  Too  low  a  mistress  for  so  high  a  servant. 

Pro.  Not  so,  sweet  lady ;  but  too  mean  a  servant 
To  have  a  look  of  such  a  worthy  mistress. 

Val.  Leave  off  discourse  of  disability  :  — 
Sweet  lady,  entertain  him  for  your  servant. 

Pro.  My  duty  will  I  boast  of,  nothing  else. 

Sil.  And  duty  never  yet  did  want  his  meed  : 
Servant,  you're  welcome  to  a  worthless  mistress. 

Pro.  I'll  die  on  him  that  says  so,  but  yourself. 

Sil.  That  you  are  welcome? 

Pro.  That  you  are  worthless. 

Enter  a  Servant. 
Serv.  Madam,  my  lord  your  father  would  speak  with 
you. 

Sil.  I  \vait  upon  his  pleasure.  [Exit  Servant. 

Come,  Sir  Thurio, 
Go  you  with  me. —  Once  more,  new  servant,  welcome: 
I'll  leave  you  to  confer  of  home  affairs; 
When  you  have  done,  we  look  to  hear  from  you. 
Pro.  We'll  both  attend  upon  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  Silvia  and  Thurio. 
Val.  Now,  tell  me.  how  do  all  from  whence  you  came  } 
Pro.  Your  friends  are  well,  and  have  them  much  com- 
mended. 

Val.  And  how  do  yours  } 

I.  358.  [t.g.v.  22. 


Act//.]  TWO  GEyTLEM  EN   OF   VERONA.  IScene /V. 

Pro.  I  left  them  all  in  health. 
Val.  How  does  your  lady  ?  and  how  thrives  your  love  ? 

Pro.  My  tales  of  love  were  wont  to  weary  you  ; 
I  know  you  joy  not  in  a  love-discourse. 

Val.  Ay,  Proteus,  but  that  life  is  alter'd  now. 
I  have  done  penance  for  contemning  Love  . 
Those  high-imperious  thoughts  have  punish'd  me 
With  bitter  fasts,  with  penitential  groans, 
With  nightly  tears,  and  daily  heart-sore  sighs  ; 
For,  in  revenge  of  my  contempt  of  love, 
Love  hath  chas'd  sleep  from  my  enthralled  eyes, 
And  made  them  watchers  of  mine  own  heart's  sorrow. 
O  gentle  Proteus,  Love's  a  mighty  lord,. 
And  hath  so  humbled  me,  as,  I  confess, 
There  is  no  woe  to  his  correction, 
Nor  to  his  service  no  such  joy  on  earth ! 
Now  no  discourse,  except  it  be  of  love  ; 
Now  can  I  break  my  fast,  dine,  sup,  and  sl^ep, 
Upon  the  very  naked  name  of  love. 

Pro.  Enough  ;  I  read  your  fortune  in  your  eye. 
Was  this  the  idol  that  you  worship  so .'' 

Val.  Even  she  ;  and  is  she  not  a  heavenly  saint  ? 

Pro.  No  ,  but  she  is  an  earthly  paragon. 

Val.  Call  her  divine. 

Pro.  I  will  not  flatter  her. 

Val.  O,  flatter  me  ;  for  love  delights  in  praise. 

Pro,  When  I  was  sick,  you  gave  me  bitter  pills ; 
And  I  must  minister  the  like  to  you. 

Val.  Then  speak  the  truth  by  her :  if  not  divine, 
Yet  let  her  be  a  principality. 
Sovereign  to  all  the  creatures  on  the  earth. 

Pro,  Except  my  mistress. 

Val.  Sweet,  except  not  any  ; 

Except  thou  wilt  except  against  my  love. 

Pro.  Have  I  not  reason  to  prefer  mine  own .? 

Val.  And  I  will  help  thee  to  prefer  her  too : 
She  shall  be  dignified  with  this  high  honor, — 
To  bear  my  lady's  train,  lest  the  base  earth 
Should  from  her  vesture  chance  to  steal  a  kiss. 
And,  of  so  great  a  favor  growing  proud. 
Disdain  to  root  the  summer-swelling  flower, 
And  make  rough  winter  everlastingly. 

[t.G.v.  33.]  I.  33». 


Aci//.]  TWO    GENTLEMEN   OF   VERONA.  \_Sccn.i  II' 

Pro.  Why,  Valentine,  what  braggardisni  is  this  ? 
Val   Pardon  nie,  Proteus  ;  all  I  can  is  nothing 
To  her,  whose  worth  makes  other  worthies  nothing  ; 
She  is  alone. 

Pro    Then  let  her  alone. 

Val.  Not  for  the  world  :    why,  man,  she  is  mine  own  ; 
And  I  as  rich  in  having  such  a  jewel 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sands  were  pearl, 
The  water  nectar,  and  the  rocks  pure  gold. 
Forgive  me,  that  I  do  not  dream  on  thee. 
Because  thou  see'st  me  dote  upon  my  love. 
My  foolish  rival,  that  her  father  likes 
Only  for  his  possessions  are  so  huge. 
Is  gone  with  her  along  ;  and  I  must  after, 
For  love,  thou  know'st,  is  full  of  jealousy. 

Pro.  But  she  loves  you  ? 
Val.  Ay, 
And  we're  betroth'd  :  nay,  more,  our  marriage-hour. 
With  all  the  cunning  manner  of  our  flight, 
Determin'd  of ;.  how  I  must  climb  her  window. 
The  ladder  made  of  cords  ;  and  all  the  means 
Plotted  and  greed  on  for  my  happiness. 
Good  Proteus,  go  with  me  to  my  chamber. 
In  these  affairs  to  aid  me  with  thy  counsel. 

Pro.  Go  on  before;  I  shall  inquire  you  forth: 
I  must  unto  the  road,  to  disembark 
Some  necessaries  that  I  needs  must  use  ; 
And  then  I'll  presently  attend  on  you. 
V^al.  Will  you  make  haste  } 

Pro.  I  will.  {Exeunt  Valentine  and  Speed. 

Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels. 
Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another. 
So  the  remembrance  of  my  former  love 
Is  by  a  newer  object  quite  forg"Otten. 
Is  it  mine  eye,  or  Valentinus'  praise. 
Her  true  perfection,  or  my  false  transgression, 
That  makes  me,  reasonless,  to  reason  thus  ? 
She's  fair  ;  and  so  is  Julia,  that  I  love, — 
That  I  did  love,  for  now  my  love  is  thaw'd  ; 
Which,  like  a  waxen  image  'gainst  a  tire. 
Bears  no  impression  of  the  thing  it  was, 
Methinks  my  zeal  to  Valentine  is  cold, 

I.  340.  [t.g.v.  24. 


A.i//.]  TIVO  GENTLEMEX  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  K 

And  that  I  love  him  not  as  I  was  wont : 

O,  but  I  love  his  lady  too-too  much  ; 

And  that's  the  reason  I  love  him  so  little. 

How  shall  I  dote  on  her  with  more  advice. 

That  thus  without  advice  begin  to  love  her  ! 

'Tis  but  her  picture  I  have  yet  beheld. 

And  that  hath  dazzled  my  reason's  light ; 

But  when  I  look  on  her  perfections. 

There  is  no  reason  but  I  shall  be  blind. 

Ii  I  can  check  my  erring  love,  I  will  ; 

If  not,  to  compass  her  I'll  use  my  skill.  [Exit. 

Scene  V.     The  same.     A  street. 

Enter  Speed  and  Launce  severally. 

speed.  Launce  !  by  mine  honesty,  welcome  to  Milan  ! 

Launce.  Forswear  not  thyself,  sweet  youth  ;  for  I  am 
not  welcome  I  reckon  this  always  —  that  a  man  is 
never  undone  till  he  be  hanged  ;  nor  never  welcome  to  a 
place  till  some  certain  shot  be  paid,  and  the  hostess  say, 
"  Welcome." 

Speed.  Come  on,  you  madcap,  I'll  to  the  alehouse 
with  you  presently  ;  where,  for  one  shot  of  five  pence, 
thou  shalt  have  five  thousand  welcomes.  But,  sirrah,  how 
did  thy  master  part  with  Madam  Julia  ? 

Launce.  Marry,  after  they  closed  in  earnest,  they  parted 
very  fairly  in  jest. 

Speed.  But  shall  she  marry  him  ? 

Launce.  No. 

Speed.  How,  then  }  shall  he  marry  her  ? 

Launce.  No,  neither. 

speed.  What,  are  they  broken  ? 

Launce.  No,  they  are  both  as  whole  as  a  fish. 

.Speed.  Why,  then,  how  stands  the  matter  with  them  ? 

Launce.  Marr}',  thus  ;  when  it  stands  well  with  him, 
it  stands  well  with  her. 

Speed.  What  an  ass  art  thou  !  I  understand  thee  not. 

Launce.  What  a  block  art  thou,  that  thou  canst  not  ! 
My  staff  understands  me. 

Speed.  What  thou  sayest  ? 

Launce.  Ay,  and  what  I  do  too  :  look  thee,  I'll  but 
lean,  and  my  staff  understands  me. 

Speed.  It  stands  under  thee,  indeed. 

T.G.V.  25.]  1. 341. 


ActJi.]  Tiro  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  VI. 

Launce.  Why,  stand-under  and  under-stand  is  all  one. 

Speed.  But  tell  me  true,  will't  be  a  match  ? 

Launce.  Ask  my  dog  :  if  he  say  ay,  it  will  ;  if  he  say 
no,  it  will  ;  if  he  shake  his  tail  and  say  nothing,  it  will. 

Speed.  The  conclusion  is,  then,  that  it  will. 

Launce.  Thou  shalt  never  get  such  a  secret  from  me 
but  by  a  parable. 

Speed.  'Tis  well  that  I  get  it  so.  But,  Launce,  how 
sayest  thou,  that  my  master  is  become  a  notable  lover .' 

Launce.  1  never  knew  him  otherwise. 

speed.  Than  how  ? 

Launce.  A  notable  lubber,  as  thou  reportest  him  to  be. 

speed.  Why,  thou  whoreson  ass,  thou  mistakest  me. 

Launce.  Why,  fool,  I  meant  not  thee ;  1  meant  thy 
master. 

Speed.  I  tell  thee,  my  master  is  become  a  hot  lover. 

Launce.  Why,  I  tell  thee,  I  care  not  though  he  burn 
himself  in  love.  If  thou  wilt  go  with  me  to  the  alehouse, 
so  ;  if  not,  thou  art  an  Hebrew,  a  Jew,  and  not  worth  the 
name  of  a  Christian. 

speed.  Why.? 

Launce.  Because  thou  hast  not  so  much  charity  in 
thee  as  to  go  to  the  ale  with  a  Christian.     Wilt  thou  go  ? 

.S]^<?<f«'!  At  thy  service.  [Exeutit. 

Scene   VI.      The  same.     A  room  /n  f/ie  Dwk^^'s  palace. 
Enter  Proteus. 
Pro.  To  leave  my  Julia,  shall  1  be  forsworn  ; 
To  love  fair  Silvia,  shall  I  be  forsworn  ; 
To  wrong  my  friend,  I  shall  be  much  forsworn  ; 
And  even  that  power,  which  gave  me  first  my  oath. 
Provokes  me  to  this  threefold  perjury  : 
Love  bade  me  swear,  and  Love  bids  me  forswear: 
O  sweet-suggesting  Love,  if  thou  hast  sinn'd, 
Teach  me,  thy  tempted  subject,  to  excuse  it ! 
At  tirst  I  did  adore  a  twinkling  star, 
liut  now  I  worship  a  celestial  sun  : 
Unheedful  vows  niay  heedfuUy  be  broken  ; 
And  he  wants  wit  that  wants  resolved  will 
To  learn  his  wit  t'  exchange  the  bad  for  better. 
Fie,  fie,  unreverftnd  tongue  !  to  call  her  bad, 
Whose  sovereignty  so  oft  thou  hast  preferr'd 

1.  J43.  [i.a.v.  a6. 


Act /I.]  TWO  GE.XTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  \S.tne  VH. 

With  twenty  thousand  soul-contirming  oaths 

I  cannot  leave  to  love,  and  yet  I  do  ; 

But  there  I  leave  to  love  where  I  should  love. 

Julia  I  lose,  and  Valentine  I  lose  : 

If  I  keep  them,  I  needs  must  lose  niyself ; 

If  I  lose  them,  this  lind  I  by  their  loss, — 

For  Valentine,  myself  ;  for  Julia,  Silvia. 

I  to  myself  am  dearer  than  a  friend. 

For  love  is  stili  most  precious  in  itself ; 

And  Silvia —  witness  Heaven,  that  made  her  fair  '— 

Shows  Julia  but  a  swarthy  Ethiop. 

I  will  forget  that  Julia  is  alive, 

Remembering  that  my  love  to  her  is  dead ; 

And  Valentine  Fll  hold  an  enemy, 

Aiming  at  Silvia  as  a  sweeter  friend. 

1  cannot  now  prove  constant  to  myself. 

Without  some  treachery  us'd  to  Valentine. 

'Fhis  night  he  meaneth  with  a  corded  ladder 

To  climb  celestial  Silvia's  chamber-window  ; 

Myself  in  counsel  his  competitor  : 

Now  presently  I'll  give  her  father  notice 

Of  their  disguising  and  pretended  flight ; 

Who,  all  enrag'd,  will  banish  Valentine, 

For  Thurio  he  intends  shall  wed  his  daughter  : 

But,  Valentine  being  gone,  I'll  quickly  cross. 

By  some  sly  trick,  blunt  Thurio's  dull  proceeding. 

Love,  lend  me  wings  to  make  my  purpose  swift. 

As  thou  hast  lent  me  wit  to  plot  this  drift  !  {^Exit, 

Scene  VII.     Verona.  A  room  in  Julia's  house. 
Enter  Julia  and  Lucetta. 

Jicl.  Counsel,  Lucetta  ;  gentle  girl,  assist  me  ; 
And,  even  in  kind  love,  I  do  conjure  thee, — 
Who  art  the  table  wherein  all  my  thoughts 
Are  visibly  character'd  and  engrav'd, — 
To  lesson  me  ;  and  tell  me  some  good  mean. 
How,  with  my  honor,  I  may  undertake 
A  journey  to  my  loving  Proteus. 

Luc.  Alas,  the  way  is  wearisome  and  long ! 

Jul,  A  true-devoted  pilgrim  is  not  weary 
To  measure  kingdoms  with  his  feeble  steps  ; 

T.G.V.  27.1  I.  343. 


Acta.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  \_Scene  VII. 

Much  less  shall  she  that  hath  Love's  wings  to  fly. 
And  when  the  flight  is  made  to  one  so  dear, 
Of  such  divine  perfection,  as  Sir  Proteus. 

Luc.  Better  forbear  till  Proteus  make  return. 

Jul.  O,  know'st  thou  not,  his  looks  are  my  soul's  food? 
Pity  the  dearth  that  I  have  pined  in, 
By  longing  for  that  food  so  long  a  time. 
Didst  thou  but  know  the  inly  touch  of  love, 
Thou  wouldst  as  soon  go  kindle  fire  with  snow 
As  seek  to  quench  the  fire  of  love  with  words. 

Liic.  I  do  not  seek  to  quench  your  love's  hot  fire. 
But  qualify  the  fire's  extreme  rage, 
Lest  it  should  burn  above  the  bounds  of  reason. 

Jul.  The  more  thou  damm'st  it  up,  the  more  it  burns: 
The  current  that  with  gentle  murmur  glides, 
T^hou  know'st,  being  stopp'd,  impatiently  doth  rage  ; 
But  when  his  fair  course  is  not  hindered, 
He  makes  sweet  music  with  th'  enamel 'd  stones, 
Giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 
He  overtaketh  in  his  pilgrimage; 
And  so  by  many  winding  nooks  he  strays, 
With  willing  sport,  to  the  wide  ocean. 
Then  let  me  go,  and  hinder  not  my  course  : 
I'll  be  as  patient  as  a  gentle  stream. 
And  make  a  pastime  of  each  weary  step, 
Till  the  last  step  have  brought  me  to  my  love ; 
And  there  I'll  rest,  as,  after  much  turmoil, 
A  blessed  soul  doth  in  Elysium. 

Luc.  But  in  what  habit  will  you  go  along? 

J^il.  Not  like  a  woman  ;  for  I  would  prevent 
The  loose  encounters  of  lascivious  men  ; 
Gentle  Lucetta,  fit  me  with  such  weeds 
As  may  beseeni  some  well-reputed  page. 

Luc.  Why,  then,  your  ladyship  must  cut  your  hair. 

Jul.  No,  girl ;  I'll  knit  it  up  in  silken  strings 
With  twenty  odd-conceited  true-love  knots : 
To  be  fantastic  may  become  a  youth 
Of  greater  time  than  I  shall  show  to  be. 

Luc.  What  fashion,  madam,  shall  I  make  your  breeches  ? 

Jul.  That  fits  as  well  as  —  "  Tell  me,  good  my  lord, 

I.  344.  (.T.G.V.  a^ 


ActH.^  TIVO  GENrLEMh.\   OF  TERONA.  {Scer.e  VI/. 

What  compass  will  you  wear  your  farthingale  ?  " 
Why,  even  what  fashion  thou  best  lik'st,  Lucetta. 

Luc.  You  must  needs  have  them  with  a  codpiece,  madam. 

Jul.  Out,  out,  Lucetta  !  that  will  be  ill-favor'd. 

Luc.  A  round  hose,  madam,  now's  not  worth  a  pin, 
Unless  you  have  a  codpiece  to  stick  pins  on. 

Jul.  Lucetta,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  let  me  have 
What  thou  think'st  meet,  and  is  most  mannerly. 
But  tell  me,  wench,  how  will  the  world  repute  me 
For  undertaking  so  unstaid  a  journey.'* 
I  fear  me,  it  will  make  me  scandaliz'd. 

Luc.  If  you  think  so,  then  stay  at  home,  and  go  not. 

Jul.  Nay,  that  I  will  not. 

Luc.  Then  never  dream  on  infamy,  but  go. 
If  Proteus  like  your  journey  when  you  come, 
No  matter  who's  displeas'd  when  you  are  gone : 
I  fear  me,  he  will  scarce  be  pleas'd  withal. 

Jul.  That  is  the  least,  Lucetta,  of  my  fear : 
A  thousand  oaths,  an  ocean  of  his  tears, 
And  instartces  of  infinite  of  love. 
Warrant  me  welcome  to  my  Proteus. 

Luc.  All  these  are  servants  to  deceitful  men. 

_/?//.  Base  men,  that  use  them  to  so  base  effect  ! 
But  truer  star  did  govern  Proteus'  birth  : 
His  words  are  bonds,  his  oaths  are  oracles ; 
His  love  sincere,  his  thoughts  immaculate  ; 
His  tears  pure  messengers  sent  from  his  heart  ; 
His  heart  as  far  from  fraud  as  heaven  from  earth. 

Luc.  Pray  heaven  he  prove  so,  when  you  come  to  him  ! 

Jul.  Now,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  do  him  not  that  wrong. 
To  bear  a  hard  opinion  of  his  truth  : 
Only  deserve  my  love  by  loving  him  ; 
And  presently  go  with  me  to  my  chamber, 
To  take  a  note  of  what  I  stand  in  need  of. 
To  furnish  me  upon  my  longing  journey. 
All  that  is  mine  I  leave  at  thy  dispose. 
My  goods,  my  lands,  my  reputation  ; 
Only,  in  lieu  thereof,  dispatch  me  hence. 
Come,  answer  not,  but  to  it  presently; 
I  am  impatient  of  my  tarriance.  [^Exeunt 

T.G.V.  29.]  I.  345- 


Act  in.)  TWO  GENTLEMEN  9F  XERONA.  \_Scene  I. 

ACT    III. 

Scene  I.  Milan.   An  ante-room  in  the  Y)wV€s  palace. 
Enter  DuKE,  Thurio,  and  Proteus. 

Duke.  Sir  Thurio,  give  us  leave,  I  pray,  awhile  ; 
We  have  some  secrets  to  confer  about.        [Exit  Thurio. 
Now,  tell  me,  Proteus,  what's  your  will  with  me  ? 

Pro.  My  gracious  lord,  that  which  I  would  discover 
The  law  of  friendship  bids  me  to  conceal ; 
But  when  I  call  to  mind  your  gracious  favors 
Done  to  me,  undeserving  as  I  am, 
My  duty  pricks  me  on  to  utter  that 
Which  else  no  worldly  good  should  draw  from  me. 
Know,  worthy  prince,  Sir  Valentine,  my  friend. 
This  night  intends  to  steal  away  your  daughter ; 
Myself  am  one  made  privy  to  the  plot. 
I  know  you  have  determin'd  to  bestow  her 
On  Thurio,  whom  your  gentle  daughter  hates; 
And  should  she  thus  be  stol'n  away  from  you, 
It  would  be  much  vexation  to  your  age. 
Thus,  for  my  duty's  sake,  I  rather  chose 
To  cross  my  friend  in  his  intended  drift 
Than,  by  concealing  it,  heap  on  your  head 
A  pack  of  sorrows,  which  would  press  you  dowm. 
Being  unprevented,  to  your  timeless  grave. 

Duke.  Proteus,  I  thank  thee  for  thine  honest  care  ; 
Which  to  requite,  command  me  while  I  live. 
This  love  of  theirs  myself  have  often  seen, 
Haply  when  they  have  judg'd  me  fast  asleep  ; 
And  oftentimes  have  purpos'd  to  forbid 
Sir  Valentine  her  company  and  my  court  : 
But,  fearing  lest  my  jealous  aim  might  err. 
And  so,  unworthily,  disgrace  the  man, — 
A  rashness  that  1  ever  yet  have  shunn'd, — 
I  gave  him  gentle  looks  ;  thereby  to  find 
That  which  thyself  hast  now  disclos'd  to  me. 
And,  that  thou  mayst  perceive  my  fear  of  this. 
Knowing  that  tender  youth  is  soon  suggested, 
I  nightly  lodge  her  in  an  upper  tower. 
The  key  whereof  myself  have  ever  kept ; 
And  thence  she  cannot  be  convey'd  away. 

Pro.  Know,  noble  lord,  they  have  devis'd  a  mean 

I.  346.  {t.g.v.  30. 


Actlll.'l  rWO   GEX^TLEMEX  OF  VEROMA.  {Uent  1. 

How  he  her  chamber-window  will  ascend, 
And  with  a  corded  ladder  fetch  her  down  ; 
For  which  the  youthful  lover  now  is  gone. 
And  this  way  comes  he  with  it  presently  ; 
Where,  if  it  please  you,  you  may  intercept  him. 
But,  good  my  lord,  do  it  so  cunningly 
That  my  discovery  be  not  aimed  at  ; 
For  love  of  you,  not  hate  unto  my  friend, 
Hath  made  me  publisher  of  this  pretense. 

Duke.  Upon  mine  honor,  he  shall  never  know 
That  I  had  any  light  from  thee  of  this. 

Pro.  Adieu,  my  lord  ;  Sir  Valentine  is  coming.    \^Exit, 
Enter    VALENTINE. 

Duke.  Sir  Valentine,  whither  away  so  fast  ? 

Val.  Please  it  your  grace,  there  is  a  messenger 
That  stays  to  bear  my  letters  to  my  friends, 
And  I  am  going  to  deliver  them. 

Duke.  Be  they  of  much  import  ? 

Val.  The  tenor  of  them  doth  but  signify 
My  health,  and  happy  being  at  your  court. 

Duke.  Nay,  then,  no  matter  ;  stay  with  me  awhile- 
I  am  to  break  with  thee  of  some  affairs 
That  touch  me  near,  wherein  thou  must  be  secret. 
'Tis  not  unknown  to  thee  that  I  have  sought 
To  match  my  friend  Sir  Thurio  to  my  daughter. 

Val.  I  know  it  well,  my  lord  ;  and,  sure,  the  match 
Were  rich  and  honorable ;  besides,  the  gentleman 
Is  full  of  virtue,  bounty,  worth,  and  qualities 
Beseeming  such  a  wife  as  your  fair  daughter  : 
Cannot  your  grace  win  her  to  fancy  him  } 

Duke.  No,  trust  me ;  she  is  peevish,  sullen,  froward, 
Proud,  disobedient,  stubborn,  lacking  duty  ; 
Neither  regarding  that  she  is  my  child. 
Nor  fearing  me  as  if  I  were  her  father  : 
And,  may  I  say  to  thee,  this  pride  of  hers, 
Upon  advice,  hath  drawn  my  love  from  her  ; 
And,  where  I  thought  the  remnant  of  mine  age 
Should  have  been  cherish 'd  by  her  child-like  duty, 
I  now  am  full  resolv'd  to  take  a  wife, 
And  turn  her  out  to  who  will  take  her  in  : 
Then  let  her  beauty  be  her  wedding-dower ; 
For  me  and  my  possessions  she  esteems  not. 

T.G.V.  31. J  1.  347. 


Act  III.'  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene  I. 

Val.  What  would  your  grace  have  me  to  do  in  this  ? 

Duke.  There  is  a  lady  in  Milano  here 
Whom  I  affect  ;  but  she  is  nice  and  coy, 
And  naught  esteems  my  aged  eloquence  . 
Now,  therefore,  would  1  hax-e  thee  to  my  tutor, — 
For  long  agone  I  have  forgot  to  court  ; 
Besides,  the  fashion  of  the  time  is  chang'd, — 
How,  and  which  way,  I  may  bestow  myself. 
To  be  regarded  in  her  sun-briglu  eye. 

Val.  Win  her  with  gifts,  if  she  respect  not  words ; 
Dumb  jewels  often,  in  their  silent  kind, 
More  than  quick  words,  do  move  a  woman's  mind. 

Duke.  But  she  did  scorn  a  present  that  I  sent  her. 

Val.  A  woman  sometime   scorns  what  best   contents 
her  : 
Send  her  another  ;  never  give  her  o'er  ; 
For  scorn  at  first  makes  after-love  the  more. 
If  she  do  frown,  'tis  not  in  hate  of  you, 
But  rather  to  beget  more  love  in  you  : 
If  she  do  chide,  'tis  not  to  have  you  gone ; 
For  why  the  fools  are  mad,  if  left  alone. 
Take  no  repulse,  whatever  she  doth  say  ; 
For  "  get  you  gone,"  she  doth  not  mean  "  away  !  " 
Flatter  and  praise,  commend,  extol  their  graces ; 
Though  ne'er  so  black,  say  they  have  angels'  faces. 
That  man  that  hath  a  tongue,  I  say,  is  no  man, 
If  with  his  tongue  he  cannot  win  a  woman. 

Duke.  But  she  I  mean  is  promis'd  by  her  friends 
Unto  a  youthful  gentleman  of  worth  ; 
And  kept  severely  from  resort  of  men, 
That  no  man  hath  access  by  day  to  her. 

Val.  Why.  then,  I  would  resort  to  her  l)y  night. 

Duke.  Ay,  but  the  doors  be  lock'd,  and  keys  kept  safe, 
That  no  man  hath  recourse  to  her  by  night. 

Val.  What  lets  but  one  may  enter  at  her  window  .■* 

Duke.  Her  chamber  is  aloft,  far  from  the  ground, 
And  built  so  shelving,  that  one  cannot  climb  it 
Without  apparent  hazard  of  his  life. 

Val.  Why,  then,  a  ladder,  quaintly  made  of  cords. 
To  cast  up,  with  a  pair  of  anchoring  hooks. 
Would  serve  to  scale  another  Hero's  tower, 
So  bold  Leander  would  adventure  it. 

I.  348.  [t.g.v.  3a. 


Actin.\  TWO  GEXTLEMEN  OF   VERONA.  {Scene  I. 

Duke.  Now,  as  thou  art  a  gentleman  of  blood, 
Advise  me  where  I  may  have  such  a  ladder. 

Val.  When  would  you  use  it  ?  pray,  sir,  tell  me  that. 

Duke.  This  very  night ;  for  Love  is  like  a  child, 
That  longs  for  every  thing  that  he  can  come  by. 

VaL  By  seven  o'clock  I'll  get  you  such  a  ladder. 

Duke.  But,  hark  thee  ;  I  will  go  to  her  alone  : 
How  shall  I  best  convey  the  ladder  thither.-* 

Val.  It  will  be  light,  my  lord,  that  you  may  bear  it 
Under  a  cloak  that  is  of  any  length. 

Duke.  A  cloak  as  long  as  thine  will  serve  the  turn  ? 

Val.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Duke.  Then  let  me  see  thy  cloak  : 

I'll  get  me  one  of  such  another  length. 

Val.  Why,  any  cloak  will  serve  the  turn,  my  lord. 

Duke.  How  shall  I  fashion  me  to  wear  a  cloak  }  — 
I  pray  thee,  let  me  feel  thy  cloak  upon  me. — • 
What  letter  is  this  same  .''  What's  here  ?  —  "  To  Silvia  I  " 
And  here  an  engine  fit  for  my  proceeding ! 
I'll  be  so  bold  to  break  the  seal  for  once.  [^Reads. 

"  My  thoughts  do  harbor  with  my  Silvia  nightly  ; 

And  slaves  they  are  to  me,  that  send  them  Hying  : 
O,  could  their  master  come  and  go  as  lightlv. 

Himself  would  lodge  where  senseless  they  are  lying ! 
My  herald  thoughts  in  thy  pure  bosom  rest  them  ; 

W^hile  I,  their  king,  that  thither  them  importune. 
Do  curse  the  grace  that  with  such  grace  hath  bless'd  them, 

Because  myself  do  want  my  servants'  fortune : 

I  curse  myself,  for  they  are  sent  by  me. 

That  they  should  harbor  where  their  lord  would  be." 
What's  here  ? 

"  Silvia,  this  night  I  will  enfranchise  thee :  " 
'Tis  so  ;  and  here's  the  ladder  for  the  purpose. 
Why,  Phaethon, —  for  thou  art  Merops'  son, — 
Wilt  thou  aspire  to  guide  the  heavenly  car, 
And  with  thy  daring  folly  burn  the  world  ? 
Wilt  thou  reach  stars,  because  they  shine  on  thee? 
Go,  base  intruder  !  overweening  slave  I 
Bestow  thy  fawning  smiles  on  equal  mates ; 
And  think  my  patience,  more  than  thy  desert, 
Is  privilege  for  thy  departure  hence  : 
Thank  me  for  this,  more  than  for  all  the  favors 

T.G.V.33.]  I- 349- 


Act  1 11.^  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene/. 

Which,  all  too  much,  I  have  bestow'd  on  thee. 
But  if  thou  linger  in  my  territories 
Longer  than  swiftest  expedition 
Will  give  thee  time  to  leave  our  royal  court, 
By  heaven,  my  wrath  shall  far  exceed  the  love 
I  ever  bore  my  daughter  or  thyself. 
Be  gone  !  I  will  not  hear  thy  vain  excuse  ; 
But,  as  thou  lov'st  thy  life,  make  speed  from  hence.    Exit. 
Val.  And  why  not  death,  rather  than  li\  ing  torment  ? 
To  die,  is  to  be  banish'd  from  myself; 
And  Silvia  is  myself:  banish'd  from  her, 
Is  self  from  self, —  a  deadly  banishment ! 
What  light  is  light,  if  Silvia  be  not  seen  .-* 
What  joy  is  joy,  if  Silvia  be  not  by  } 
Unless  it  be  to  think  that  she  is  by. 
And  feed  upon  the  shadow  of  perfection. 
Except  I  be  by  Silvia  in  the  night. 
There  is  no  music  in  the  nightingale  ; 
Unless  I  look  on  Silvia  in  the  day. 
There  is  no  day  forme  to  look  upon : 
She  is  my  essence ;  and  1  leave  to  be, 
If  I  be  not  by  her  fair  influence 
Foster'd,  illumin'd,  cherish'd,  kept  alive. 
I  fly  not  death,  to  fly  this  deadly  doom : 
Tarry  I  here,  I  but  attend  on  death  ; 
But,  fly  I  hence,  I  fly  away  from  life. 

Efiter  Proteus  and  Launce. 

Pro.  Run,  boy,  run,  run,  and  seek  him  out. 
Launce.  So-ho,  so-ho ! 
Pro.  What  see'st  thou  } 

Launce.  Him  we  go  to  find  :  there's  not  a  hair  on  's 
head  but  'tis  a  Valentine, 
Pro.  Valentine  ! 

Val.  No. 
Pro.  Who  then  .'*  his  spirit  ? 

Val.  Neither. 
Pro.  What  then  ? 

Val.  Nothing. 

Launce.  Can  nothing  speak  .''     Master,  shall  I  strike  .- 
Pro.  Who  wouldst  thou  strike  } 
Launce.  Nothing. 

'1.350.  [t.s.v.34. 


Act///.}  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Sceti^  I. 

Pro,  Villain,  forbear. 

Launce.  Why,  sir,  I'll  strike  nothing:   I  pray  you, — 

Pro.  Sirrah,  I  say,  forbear.—   Friend  Valentine,  a  word. 

Val.  My  ears  are  stopp'd,  and  cannot  hear  good  news, 
So  much  of  bad  already  hath  possess'd  them. 

Pro.  Then  in  dumb  silence  will  I  bury  mine, 
For  they  are  harsh,  untunable,  and  bad. 

I'al.  Is  Sihia  dead  ? 

Pro.  No,  Valentine. 

Val.  No  Valentine,  indeed,  for  sacred  Silvia!  — 
Hath  she  forsworn  me  .^ 

Pro.  No,  Valentine. 

Val.  No  Valentine,  if  Silvia  have  forsworn  me  !  — 
What  is  your  news  .'' 

Launce.  Sir,  there  is  a  proclamation  that  you  are  van- 
ished. 

Pro.  That  thou  art  banished  —  O,  that's  the  news  !  — 
From  hence,  from  Silvia,  and  from  me  thy  friend. 

Val.  O,  I  have  fed  upon  this  woe  already, 
And  now  excess  of  it  will  make  me  surfeit. 
Doth  Silvia  know  that  I  am  banished  .'' 

Pro.  Ay,  ay  ;  and  she  hath  offer'tl  to  the  doom  — 
Which,  unrevers'd,  stands  in  effectual  force  — 
A  sea  of  melting  pearl,  which  some  call  tears  : 
Those  at  her  father's  churlish  feet  she  tender'd  ; 
With  them,  upon  her  knees,  her  humble  self ; 
Wringing  her  hands,  whose  whiteness  so  became  them 
As  if  but  now  they  waxed  pale  for  woe  : 
But  neither  bended  knees,  pure  hands  held  up, 
Sad  sighs,  deep  groans,  nor  silver-shedding  tears, 
Could  penetrate  her  uncompassionate  sire  ; 
But  Valentine,  if  he  be  ta'en,  must  die. 
Besides,  her  intercession  chaf'd  him  so. 
When  she  for  thy  repeal  was  suppliant, 
That  to  close  prison  he  commanded  her. 
With  many  bitter  threats  of  biding  there. 

Val.  No  more  ;  unless  the  next  word  that  thou  speak'st 
Have  some  malignant  power  upon  my  life  : 
If  so,  I  pray  thee,  breathe  it  in  mine  ear. 
As  ending  anthem  of  my  endless  dolor. 

Pro.  Cease  to  lament  for  that  thou  canst  not  help. 
And  study  help  for  that  which  thou  lament'st. 

T.G.V.  35.]  I-  351- 


Act  nr.'\  TIVO  GENTLEMEN  OF  f^ERONA.  \_F.rene  /. 

Time  is  the  nurse  and  breeder  of  all  good. 
Here  if  thou  stay,  thou  canst  not  see  thy  love ; 
Besides,  thy  staying  will  abridge  thy  life. 
Hope  is  a  lover's  staff  ;  walk  hence  with  that. 
And  manage  it  against  despairing  thoughts. 
Thy  letters  may  be  here,  though  thou  art  hence  ; 
Which,  being  writ  to  me,  shall  be  deliver'd 
Even  in  the  milk-white  bosom  of  thy  love. 
The  time  now  serves  not  to  expostulate  : 
Come,  I'll  convey  thee  through  the  city-gate  ; 
And,  ere  I  part  with  thee,  confer  at  large 
Of  all  that  may  concern  thy  love-affairs. 
As  thou  lov'st  Silvia,  though  not  for  thyself. 
Regard  thy  danger,  and  along  with  me. 

Val.  I  pray  thee,  Launce,  an  if  thou  see'st  my  boy. 
Bid  him  make  haste,  and  meet  me  at  the  north-gate. 

Pro.  Go,  sirrah,  tind  him  out. —  Come,  Valentine. 

Val.  O  my  dear  Silvia  !  —  Hapless  Valentine  ! 

[Exeutit  Va/enfine  and  Proteus. 

Launce.  I  am  but  a  fool,  look  you  ;  and  yet  I  have  the 
wit  to  think  my  master  is  a  kind  of  a  knave  :  but  that's 
all  one,  if  he  be  but  one  knave.  He  lives  not  now  that 
knows  me  to  be  in  love ;  yet  I  am  in  love  ;  but  a  team  of 
horse'  shall  not  pluck  that  from  me  ;  nor  who  'tis  I  love ; 
and  yet  'tis  a  woman  ;  but  w  hat  woman,  I  will  not  tell 
myself ;  and  yet  'tis  a  milkmaid  ;  yet  'tis  not  a  maid,  for 
she  hath  had  gossips ;  yet  'tis  a  maid,  for  she  is  her  mas- 
ter's maid,  and  serves  for  wages.  She  hath  more  quali- 
ties than  a  water-spaniel, —  which  is  much  in  a  bare 
Christian.  {^Pulling  out  a  paper ?^  Here  is  the  cate-log 
of  her  conditions.  \^Reads\  "  Imprimis,  She  can  fetch  and 
carry."  Why,  a  horse  can  do  no  more  :  nay,  a  horse 
cannot  fetch,  but  only  carry  ;  therefore  is  she  better  than 
a  jade.  "  Item,  She  can  milk ;  "  look  you,  a  sweet  virtue 
in  a  maid  with  clean  hands. 

Enter  Speed. 

Speed.  How  now,  Signior  Launce !  what  news  with 
your  mastership  ? 

Launce.  With  my  master's  ship  ?  why,  it  is  at  sea. 

Speed.  Well,  your  old  vice  still ;  mistake  the  word. 
What  news,  then,  in  your  paper.'* 

I.  352.  i.T.G.V.  36. 


Jet  in/]  TWO  GE^TTLEMEN' OF   VERONA.  iScene  I . 

Launce.  The  blackest  news  that  ever  thou  heardest. 

Speed.  Why,  man,  how  black? 

Launce.  Why,  as  black  as  ink. 

Speed.  Let  me  read  them. 

Launce.  Fie  on  thee,  jolt-head  !  thou  canst  not  read. 

speed.  Thou  liest ;  I  can. 

Launce.  I  will  try  thee.  Tell  me  this  :  who  begot 
thee  } 

speed.  Marry,  the  son  of  my  grandfather. 

Launce.  O  illiterate  loiterer  !  it  was  the  son  of  thy 
grandmother  :  this  proves  that  thou  canst  not  read. 

Speed.  Come,  fool,  come ;  try  me  in  thy  paper. 

Launce.  There  ;  and  Saint  Nicholas  be  thy  speed  ! 

Speed,  [reads]  "  Imprimis,  She  can  milk." 

Launce.  Ay,  that  she  can. 

speed.  "  Item,  She  brews  good  ale." 

Launce.    And    thereof  comes  the    proverb,—  Blessing . 
of  your  heart,  you  brew  good  ale. 

speed.  "  Item,  She  can  sew." 

Launce.  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  Can  she  so  ? 

Speed.  "Item,  She  can  knit." 

Launcer'  W^hat  need  a  man  care  for  a  stock  with  a 
wench,  when  she  can  knit  him  a  stock  ? 

Speed.  "Item,  She  can  wash  and  scour." 

Launce.  A  special  virtue ;  for  then  she  need  not  be 
washed  and  scoured. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  can  spin." 

Launce.  Then  may  I  set  the  world  on  wheels,  when 
she  can  spin  for  her  living. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  hath  many  nameless  virtues." 

Launce.  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  bastard  virtues ; 
that,  indeed,  know  not  their  fathers,  and  therefore  have 
no  names. 

Speed.  "  Here  follow  her  vices." 

Launce.  Close  at  the  heels  of  her  virtues. 

Speed,  "  Item,  She  is  not  to  be  kissed  fasting,  in  re- 
spect of  her  breath." 

Launce.  Well,  that  fault  may  be  mended  with  a  break- 
fast.    Read  on. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  hath  a  sweet  mouth." 

Launce.  That  makes  amends  for  her  sour  breath. 

Speed.  •'  Item,  She  don't  talk  in  her  sleep." 

T.G.Y.  37.}  I.  353- 


Act  in. '\  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VEROXA.  [Scen^/. 

Launce.  It's  no  matter  for  that,  so  she  sleep  not  in  her 
talk. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  is  slow  in  words." 

Launce.  O  villain,  that  set  this  down  among  her  vices  ! 
To  be  slow  in  words  is  a  woman's  only  virtue  :  1  pray 
thee,  out  with't,  and  place  it  for  her  chief  virtue. 

speed.  "  Item,  She  is  proud." 

Latitice.  Out  with  that  too ;  it  was  Eve's  legacy,  and 
cannot  be  ta'en  from  her. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  hath  no  teeth." 

Launce.  I  care  not  for  that  neither,  because  I  love 
crusts. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  is  curst." 

Launce.  Well,  the  best  is,  she  hath  no  teeth  to  bite. 

Speed.  "Item,  She  will  often  praise  her  liquor." 

Launce.  If  her  liquor  be  good,  she  shall  :  if  she  will 
not,  I  will ;  for  good  things  should  be  praised. 

Speed.  "  Item,  She  is  too  liberal." 

Launce.  Of  her  tongue  she  cannot,  for  that's  writ 
down  she  is  slow  of ;  of  her  purse  she  shall  not,  for  that 
I'll  keep  shut  :  now,  of  another  thing  she  may,  an<l  that 
cannot  I  help.     Well,  proceed. 

speed.  "  Item.  She  hath  more  hair  than  wit,  and  more 
faults  than  hairs,  and  more  wealth  than  faults." 

Launce.  Stop  there  ;  I'll  have  her:  she  was  mine,  and 
not  mine,  twice  or  thrice  in  that  last  article.  Rehearse 
that  once  more. 

speed.  "  Item,  She  hath  more  hair  than  wit," — 

Launce.  More  hair  than  wit, —  it  may  be:  I'll  prove  it. 
The  cover  of  the  salt  hides  the  salt,  and  therefore  it  is 
more  than  the  salt ;  the  hair  that  covers  the  wit  is  more 
than  the  wit,  for  the  greater  hides  the  less.     W hat's  ne.xt .-' 

speed.  "  And  more  faults  than  hairs," — 

Launce.  That's  monstrous  :  O,  that  that  were  out  ! 

Speed.  "  And  more  wealth  than  faults." 

Launce.  Why,  that  word  makes  the  faults  gracious. 
Well,  I'll  have  her:  and  if  it  be  a  match,  as  nothing  is 
impossible, — 

speed.  What  then  ? 

Launce.  Why,  then  will  I  tell  thee  —  that  thy  master 
stays  for  thee  at  the  north-gate. 

Speed.  For  me  ! 

I.  354.  [t.G.V.  :i8. 


A 1 1  /I/.]  TH  'O  GEN  TL  EM  EN  OF  VERONA .  {Scene  II. 

Launcc.  For  thee  !  ay ;  who  art  thou  ?  he  hath  staid 
for  a  better  man  than  thee. 

Speed.   And  must  I  go  to  him  ? 

Laiince.  Thou  must  run  to  him,  for  thou  hast  staid 
so  long,  that  going  will  scarce  serve  the  turn. 

Speed.  Why  didst  not  tell  me  sooner }  pox  of  your 
love-letters !  yExit. 

Laiiiice.  Now  will  he  be  swinged  for  reading  my  letter, 
—  an  unmannerly  slave,  that  will  thrust  himself  into  se- 
crets !  I'll  after,  to  rejoice  in  the  boy's  correction.  YExit, 

Scene  II.      The  same.     A  room  in  the  "DvlVc's palace. 
Enter  Duke  and'YnuKlo. 

Duke.  Sir  Thurio,  fear  not  but  that  she  will  love  you, 
Now  Valentine  is  banish 'd  from  her  sight. 

T/iit.  Since  his  exile  she  hath  despis'd  me  most. 
Forsworn  my  company,  and  rail'd  at  me, 
That  I  am  desperate  of  obtaining  her. 

Duke.  This  weak  impress  of  love  is  as  a  figure 
Trenched  in  ice,  which  with  an  hour's  heat 
Dissolves  to  water,  and  doth  lose  his  form. 
A  little  time  will  melt  her  frozen  thoughts, 
And  worthless  Valentine  shall  be  forgot. 

Enfer   PROTEUS. 
How  now,  Sir  Proteus  !  Is  your  countryman, 
According  to  our  proclamation,  gone  .'' 

Pro.  Gone,  my  good  lord. 

Duke.  My  daughter  takes  his  going  grievously. 

Pro.  A  little  time,  my  lord,  will  kill  that  grief. 

Duke.  So  I  believe ;  but  Thurio  thinks  not  so. 
Proteus,  the  good  conceit  I  hold  of  thee  — 
For  thou  hast  shown  some  sign  of  good  desert  — 
Makes  me  the  better  to  confer  with  thee. 

Pro.  Longer  than  I  prove  loyal  to  your  grace 
Let  me  not  live  to  look  upon  your  grace. 

Duke.  Thou  know'st  how  willingly  I  would  effect 
The  match  between  Sir  Thurio  and  my  daughter. 

Pro.  I  do,  my  lord. 

Duke.  And  also,  I  think,  thou  art  not  ignorant 
How  she  opposes  her  against  my  will. 

Pro.  She  did,  my  lord,  when  Valentine  was  here, 

T.G.V.   39.]  -  1.355. 


Act  HI.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  I  ERONA,  {Scene  II. 

Duke.  Ay,  and  perversely  she  persevers  so. 
What  might  we  do  to  make  the  girl  forget 
The  love  of  Valentine,  and  love  Sir  Thurio  ? 

Pro.  The  best  way  is  to  slander  Valentine 
With  falsehood,  cowardice,  and  poor  descent, — 
Three  things  that  women  highly  hold  in  hate. 

Duke.  Ay,  but  she'll  think  that  it  is  spoke  in  hate. 

Pro.   Ay,  if  his  enemy  deliver  it  : 
Therefore  it  must  with  circumstance  be  spoken 
By  one  whom  she  esteemeth  as  his  friend. 

Duke.  Then  you  must  undertake  to  slander  him. 

Pro.  And  that,  my  lord,  1  shall  be  loth  to  do : 
'Tis  an  ill  ofifice  for  a  gentleman, 
Especially  against  his  very  friend. 

Duke.  Where  your  good  word  cannot  advantage  him, 
Your  slander  never  can  endamage  him  ; 
Therefore  the  office  is  indifferent. 
Being  entreated  to  it  by  your  friend. 

Pro.  You  have  prevail'd,  my  lord  :  if  I  can  do  it 
By  aught  that  I  can  speak  in  his  dispraise, 
She  shall  not  long  continue  love  to  him. 
But  say,  this  weed  her  love  from  Valentine, 
It  follows  not  that  she  will  love  Sir  Thurio. 

Tku.  Therefore,  as  you  unwind  1  .i"  love  from  him, 
Lest  it  should  ravel  and  be  good  to  none. 
You  must  provide  to  bottom  it  on  me ; 
Which  must  be  done  by  praising  me  as  much 
As  you  in  worth  dispraise  Sir  Valentine. 

Duke.  And,  Proteus,  we  dare  trust  you  in  this  kind. 
Because  we  know,  on  Valentine's  report. 
You  are  already  Love's  firm  votary. 
And  cannot  soon  revolt  and  change  your  mind. 
Upon  this  warrant  shall  you  have  access 
Where  you  with  Silvia  may  confer  at  large ; 
For  she  is  lumpish,  heavy,  melancholy. 
And,  for  your  friend's  sake,  will  be  glad  of  you  ; 
When  you  may  temper  her,  by  your  persuasion, 
To  hate  young  Valentine,  and  love  my  friend. 

Pro.  As  much  as  I  can  do,  I  will  effect:  — 
But  you,  Sir  Thurio,  are  not  sharp  enough  ; 
You  must  lay  lime  to  tangle  her  desires 

1.356.  tr.G.v.  40, 


Act/y.]  TWO  GEXTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scenef. 

By  wailful  sonnets,  whose  composed  rhymes 
Should  be  full-fraught  with  serviceable  vows. 

Du^t\  Ay. 
Much  is  the  force  of  heaven-bred  poesy. 

Pro.  Say,  that  upon  the  altar  of  her  beauty 
You  sacrifice  your  tears,  your  sighs,  your  heart : 
Write  till  your  ink  be  dr)',  and  with  your  tears 
Moist  it  again  ;  and  frame  some  feeling  line 
That  may  discover  such  integrity  : 
For  Orpheus'  lute  was  strung  with  poets'  sinews; 
Whose  golden  touch  could  soften  steel  and  stones. 
Make  tigers  tame,  and  huge  leviathans 
Forsake  unsounded  deeps  to  dance  on  sands. 
After  your  dire-lamenting  elegies. 
Visit  by  night  your  lady's  chamber-window 
With  some  sweet  consort ;  to  their  instruments 
Tune  a  deploring  dump  :  the  night's  dead  silence 
Will  well  become  such  sweet-comniaining  grievance. 
This,  or  else  nothing,  will  inherit  her. 

Duke.  This  discipline  shows  thou  hast  been  in  love. 

Thii.  And  thy  advice  this  night  I'll   put  in  practice. 
Therefore,  sweet  Proteus,  my  direction-giver, 
Let  us  into  the  city  presently 
To  sort  some  gentlemen  well  skill'd  in  music  : 
I  have  a  sonnet  that  will  serve  the  turn 
To  give  the  onset  to  thy  good  advice. 

Duke.  About  it,  gentlemen. 

Pro.  We'll  wait  upon  your  grace  till  after  supper, 
And  afterward  determine  our  proceedings. 

Duke,  Even  now  about  it ;  I  will  pardon  you.  [Exeunf. 

ACT    IV. 
Scene  I.  A  forest  near  Milan. 
Enter  certain  Outlaws. 
First  Out.  Fellows,  stand  fast  ;  I  see  a  passenger. 
Sec.  Out.  If  there  be  ten,  shrink  not,  but  down    with 
'em. 
£'«/^r  Valentine  rr;?^  Speed. 
Third  Out.  Stand,   sir,  and   throw  us  that   you  have 
about  ye ; 
If  not,  we'll  make  you  sit,  and  rifle  you, 

T.o.v.  41.]  I.  357. 


^f//r.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene  J. 

Speed.  O,  sir,  we  are  undone  !  these  are  the  villains 
That  all  the  travelers  do  fear  so  much. 

Val.  My  friends,  — 

First  Out.  That's  not  so,   sir, —  we  are  your  enemies. 

Sec.  Out.  Peace  !  we'll  hear  him. 

Third  Out.  Ay,  by  my  beard,  will  we  ; 
For  he's  a  proper  man. 

Val.  Then  know  that  I  have  little  wealth  to  lose: 
A  man  I  am  cross'd  with  adversity  : 
My  riches  are  these  poor  habiliments, 
Of  which  if  you  should  here  disfurnish  me, 
You  take  the  sum  and  substance  that  I  have. 

Sec.  Out.  Whither  travel  you  } 

Val.  To  Verona. 
First  Out.  Whence  come  you  } 

Val.  From  Milan. 

Third  Out.  Have  you  long  sojourn 'd  there? 

Val.  Some  sixteen   months  ;    and  longer  might   have 
stay'd 
If  crooked  fortune  had  not  thwarted  me. 

First  Out.  What,  were  you  banish 'd  thence  } 

Val.  I  was, 

Sec.  Out.  For  what  offense  ? 

Val.  For  that  which  now  torments  me  to  rehearse 
I  kill'd  a  man,  whose  death  I  must  repent ; 
But  yet  I  slew  him  manfully  in  fight, 
Without  false  vantage  or  base  treachery. 

First  Out.  Why,  ne'er  repent  it,  if  it  were  done  so. 
But  were  vou  banish  d  for  so  smart  a  fault  ? 

Val.  I  was,  and  held  me  glad  of  such  a  doom. 

Sec.  Out.  Have  you  the  tongues  } 

Val.  My  youthful  travel  therein  made  me  happy, 
Or  else  I  often  had  been  miserable. 

Third  Out.  By  tlie  tare  scalp  of    Robin  Hood's  fat 
friar. 
This  fellow  were  a  king  for  our  wild  faction  ! 

First  Otit.  We'll  have  him  :  —  sirs,  a  word. 

Speed.  Master,  be  one  of  them  ; 
It  is  an  honorable  kind  of  thiever}'. 

Val.  Peace,  villain  ! 

Sec.  Out.  Tell  us  this  :  have  you  any  thing  to  take  to  } 

Val.  Nothing  but  my  fortune. 

I.  358.  [t.g.t.  42. 


Ac(/y.]  TWO  GEXTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  \SceneII. 

Third  Out.  Know,  then,  that  some  of  us  are  gentlemen, 
Such  as  the  fury  of  ungovern'd  youth 
Thrust  from  the  company  of  awful  men  : 
Myself  was  from  Verona  banished 
For  practicing  to  steal  away  a  lady, 
An  heir,  and  near  allied  unto  the  duke. 

Sec.  Out.  And  I  from  Mantua,  for  a  gentleman, 
Who,  in  my  mood,  I  stabb'd  unto  the  heart. 

First  Out.  And  I  for  such-Hke  petty  crimes  as  flhese. 
But  to  the  purpose, —  for  w'e/:ite  our  faults, 
That  they  may  hold  excus'd  bur  lawless  lives  ; 
And  partly,  seeing  you  are  beautified 
With  goodly  shape,  and  by  your  own  report 
A  linguist,  and  a  man  of  such  perfection 
As  we  do  in  our  quality  much  want, — 

Sec.  Out.  Indeed,  because  you  are  abanish'd  man, 
Therefore,  above  the  rest,  we  parley  to  you  : 
Are  you  content  to  be  our  general  ? 
To  make  a  virtue  of  necessity, 
And  live,  as  we  do,  in  this  wilderness  ? 

Third  Out.    What  say'st    thou  }  wilt  thou  be   of  our 
consort .'' 
Say  ay,  and  be  the  captain  of  us  all : 
We'll  do  thee  homage  and  be  rul'd  by  thee, 
Love  thee  as  our  commander  and  our  king. 

First  Out.  But  if  thou  scorn  our  courtesy,  thou  diest. 

Sec.Out.  Thou  shalt  not  live  to  brag  what  we    have 
offer'd. 

Val.  I  take  your  offer,  and  will  live  with  you. 
Provided  that  you   do  not  outrages 
On  silly  women  or  poor  passengers. 

Third  Out.  No,  we  detest  such  vile  base  praclicas. 
Come,  go  with  us,  we'll  bring  thee  to  our  cave. 
And  show  thee  all  the  treasure  we  have  got ; 
Which,  with  ourselves,  shall  rest  at  thy  dispose.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.      Mi/an.  The  court  of  the  Duke's  pa/ace. 
Enter  Proteus. 

Pro.  Already  have  I  been  false  to  Valentine, 
And  now  I  must  be  as  unjust  to  Thurio. 
Under  the  color  of  commending  him, 
I  have  access  my  own  love  to  prefer : 

T.G.V.43.]  1.359. 


Ac//F.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  II 

But  Silvia  is  too  fair,  too  true,  too  holy. 

To  be  corrupted  with  my  worthless  gifts. 

When  I  protest  true  loyalty  to  her, 

She  twits  me  with  my  falsehood  to  my  friend ; 

When  to  her  beauty  I  commend  my  vows. 

She  bids  me  think  how  I  have  been  forsworn 

In  breaking  faith  with  Julia  whom  I  lov'd  : 

And  notwithstanding  all  her  sudden  quips, 

The  least  whereof  would  quell  a  lover's  hope. 

Yet,  spaniel-like,  the  more  she  spurns  my  love, 

The  more  it  grows,  and  fawneth  on  her  still. 

But  here  comes  Thurio  :  now  must  we  to  her  window. 

And  give  some  evening  music  to  her  ear. 

E7iter  Tkurio  and  Musicians. 

Thu.  How  now.  Sir  Proteus  !  are  you  crept  before  us  ? 

Pro.  Ay,  gentle  Thurio  ;  for  you  know  that  love 
Will  creep  in  service  where  it  cannot  go. 

Thu.  Ay,  but  I  hope,  sir,  that  you  love  not  here. 

Pro.  Sir,  but  I  do  ;  or  else  I  would  be  hence. 

Thu.  Who?  Silvia? 

Pro.  Ay,  Silvia, —  for  your  sake. 

Thu.  I  thank  you  for  your  own.—  Now,  gentlemen. 
Let's  tune,  and  to  it  lustily  awhile. 

Enter  at  a  distance,  Host,  and ]\}\AX  in  boys  clothes. 

Host.  Now,  my  young  guest,— methmks  you're 
aUicholy  :  I  pray  you,  why  is  it  ? 

Jul.  Marry,  mine  host,  because  I  cannot  be  merry. 

Host.  Come,  we'll  have  you  merry  :  I'll  bring  you  where 
you  shall  hear  music,  and  see  the  gentleman  that  you 
asked  for. 

Jul.  But  shall  I  hear  him  speak  ? 

Host.  Ay,  that  you  shall. 

Jul.  That  will  be  music.  [Music plays. 

Host.  Hark,  hark ! 

Jul.  Is  he  among  these? 

Host.  Ay  :  but,  peace  !  let's  hear  'em. 

I.  360.  [t.G.V.  44. 


ActlV.l  TIVO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  ^cene  II. 

Song. 

Who  is  Silvia  ?  what  is  she, 

That  all  our  swains  commend  her? 

Holy,  fair,  and  wise  is  she; 

The  heaven  such  grace  did  lend  her, 

That  she  might  admired  be. 

Is  she  kind  as  she  is  fair, — 

For  beauty  lives  with  kindness? 

Love  doth  to  her  eyes  repair, 
To  help  him  of  his  blindness  ; 

And,  being  help'd,  inhabits  there. 

Then  to  Silvia  let  us  sing. 

That  Silvia  is  excelling ; 
She  excels  each  mortal  thing 

Upon  the  dull  earth  dwelling  : 
To  her  let  us  garlands  bring. 

Host.  How  now,  you'are  sadder  than  you  were  before  : 
How  do  you,  man  ?  the  music  likes  you  not. 

[u/.  You  mistake  ;  the  musician  likes  me  not. 

Host.  Why,  rny  pretty  youth  ? 

/«/.  He  plays  false,  father. 

Host.  How  ?  out  of  tune  on  the  strings  ? 

Jul.  Not  so ;  but  yet  so  false  that  he  grie\  es  my  very 
heart-strings. 

Host.  You  have  a  quick  ear. 

Jul.  Ay,  1  would  I  were  deaf ;  it  makes  me  have  a  slow 
heart. 

Host.  I  perceive  you  delight  not  in  music. 

Jul.  Not  a  whit, —  when  it  jars  so. 

Host.  Hark,  what  fine  change  is  in  the  music , 

Jul.  Ay,  that  change  is  the  spite. 

Host.  You  would  have  them  always  play  but  one  thing  ? 

Jul.  I  would  always  have  one  play  but  one  thing. 
But,  host,  doth  this  Sir  Proteus  that  we  talk  on 
Often  resort  unto  this  gentlewoman  ? 

Host.  I  tell  you  what  Launce,  his  man,  told  me, —  he 
loved  her  out  of  all  nick. 

Jul.  Where  is  Launce  ?  ^ 

T.G.V.  4J.)  I.  361. 


Act/l^.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene  II. 

Host.  Gone   to  seek  his  dog ;  which  to-morrow,  by  his 
master's  command,  he  must  carry  for  a  present  to  his  lady. 

Jul.  Peace  !  stand  aside  :  the  company  parts. 

Pro.  Sir  Thurio,  fear  not  you  :  I  will  so  plead, 
That  you  shall  say  my  cunning  drift  excels. 

Thu.  Where  meet  we.'' 

Pro.  At  Saint  Gregory's  well. 

T/iu.  Farewell. 

\Excinit  Thzirio  and  Musicians, 
Silvia  appears  abo7>e,  at  her  window. 

Pro.  Madam,  good  even  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  I  thank  you  for  your  music,  gentlemen. 
Who  is  that  that  spake .'' 

Pro.  One,  lady,  if  you  knew  his  pure  heart's  truth. 
You'd  quickly  learn  to  know  him  by  his  voice. 

Sil.  Sir  Proteus,  as  I  take  it. 

Pro.  Sir  Proteus,  gentle  lady,  and  your  servant. 

Sil.  What  is  your  will  ? 

Pro.  That  I  may  compass  yours. 

Sil.  You  have  your  wish  ;  my. will  is  e\en  this, — 
That  presently  you  hie  you  home  to  bed. 
Thou  subtle,  perjur'd,  false,  disloyal  man  ! 
Think'st  thou  I  am  so  shallow,  so  conceitless. 
To  be  seduced  by  thy  flattery, 
That  hast  deceiv'd  so  many  with  thy  vows.' 
Return,  return,  and  make  thy  love  amends. 
For  me, —  by  this  pale  queen  of  night  I  swear, 
I  am  so  far  from  granting  thy  request, 
That  I  despise  thee  for  thy  wrongful  suit ; 
And  by  and  by  intend  to  chide  myself 
Even  for  this  time  I  spend  in  talking  to  thee. 

Pro.  I  grant,  sweet  love,  that  I  did   love  a  lady ; 
But  she  is  dead. 

Jul.  \asidi'\  'Twere  false,  if  I  should  speak  it ; 
For  I  am  sure  she  is  not  buiied. 

Sil.  Say  that  she  be ;  yet  Valentine  thy  friend 
Survives  ;  to  whom,  thyself  art  witness, 
I  am  betroth'd  :  and  art  thou  not  asham'd 
To  wrong  him  witli  thy  importiinacy? 

Pro.  I  likewise  hear  that  Valentine  is  dead. 

Sil.  And  so  suppose  am  I  ;  for  in  his  grave 
Assure  thyself  my  love  is  buried. 

1.362.  [t.g.v,  46, 


dci/r.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERON}\.  [Sce-nc  II. 

Pro.  Sweet  lady,  let  me  rake  it  from  the  earth. 

Sil.  Go  to  thy  lady's  grave,  and  call  hers  thence; 
Or,  at  the  least,  in  hers  sepiilcher  thine. 

Jul.  [asi'df]   He  heard  not  that. 

Pro.  Madam,  if  your  heart  be  so  obdurate, 
Vouchsafe  me  yet  your  picture  for  my  love. 
The  picture  that  is  hanging  in  your  chamber ; 
To  that  I'll  speak,  to  that  I'll  sigh  and  weep: 
For  since  the  substance  of  your  perfect  self 
Is  else  devoted,  I  am  but  a  shadow  ; 
And  to  your  shadow  will  I  make  true  love. 

Ju/.  \(xsiih']   If  'twere  a  substance,  you  would,  sure,  de- 
ceive it, 
And  make  it  but  a  shadow,  as  I  am. 

Si'l.  I'm  very  loth  to  be  your  idol,  sir ; 
But  since  your  falsehood  shall  become  you  well 
To  worship  shadows  and  adore  false  shapes, 
Send  to  me  in  the  morning,  and  I'll  send  it  : 
And  so,  good  rest. 

Pro.  As  wretches  have  o'ernight 

That  wait  for  execution  in  the  morn. 

[Exeunt  Proteus,  and  Silvia  above. 

Jul. .  Host,  will  you  go  ? 

Host.  By  my  halidom,  I  was  fast  asleep. 

Jul.  Pray  you,  where  lies  Sir  Proteus  ? 

Host.  Marry,  at  my  house.     Trust  me,  I  think  'tis  al- 
most dav. 

Jul.  Not  so ;  but  it  hath  been  the  longest  night 
That  e'er  I  watch 'd,  and  the  most  heaviest.  {ExeunM. 

Enter   Eglamour. 

Egl.  This  is  the  hour  that  Madam  Silvia 
Entreated  me  to  call  and  know  her  mind  : 
There's  some  great  matter  she'd  employ  me  in. — 
Madam,  madam  ! 

Silvia  re-appears  above,  at  her  window. 

Sil.  Who  calls  } 

Egl.  Yfaur  servant  and  your  friend  ; 

One  that  attends  your  ladyship's  command. 

Sil.  Sir  Eglamour,  a  thousand  times  good  morrow. 

Egl.  As  many,  worthy  lady,  to  yourself. 
According  to  your  ladyshiji's  impose, 
T.G.v.  47.]  1.363- 


Aci/F.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  II. 

I  am  thus  early  come  to  know  what  service 
It  is  your  pleasure  to  command  me  in. 

Sil.  O  Eglamour,  thou  art  a  gentleman, — 
Think  not  I  flatter,  for  I  swear  I  do  not, — 
Valiant,  wise,  remorseful,  well  accomplish'd.: 
Thou  art  not  ignorant  what  dear  good  will 
I  bear  unto  the  banish 'd  Valentine  ; 
Nor  how  my  father  would  enforce  me  marry 
Vain  Thurio,  whom  my  very  soul  abhors. 
Thyself  hast  lov'd  ;  and  I  have  heard  thee  say 
No  grief  did  ever  come  so  near  thy  heart 
As  when  thy  lady  and  thy  true  love  died, 
Upon  whose  grave  thou  vow'dst  pure  chastity. 
Sir  Eglamour,  I  would  to  Valentine, 
To  Mantua,  where  I  hear  he  makes  abode  ; 
And,  for  the  ways  are  dangerous  to  pass, 
I  do  desire  thy  worthy  company. 
Upon  whose  faith  and  honor  I  repose. 
Urge  not  my  father's  anger,  Eglamour, 
But  think  upon  my  grief, —  a  lady's  grief, — 
And  on  the  justice  of  my  flying  hence. 
To  keep  me  from  a  most  unholy  match. 
Which  heaven  and  fortune  still  reward  with  plagues. 
I  do  desire  thee,  even  from  a  heart 
As  full  of  sorrows  as  the  sea  of  sands. 
To  bear  me  company,  and  go  with  me  : 
[f  not,  to  hide  what  I  have  said  to  thee, 
That  I  may  venture  to  depart  alone. 
\—  Egl.  Madam,  I  pity  much  your  grievances  ; 
Which  since  I  know  they  virtuously  are  plac'd, 
I  give  consent  to  go  along  with  you  ; 
Recking  as  little  what  betideth  me 
\s  much  I  wish  all  good  befortune  you. 
When  will  you  go  .'' 

St'I.  This  evening  coming. 

Egl.  Where  shall  I  meet  you  ? 

St'I.  At  Friar  Patrick's  cell, 

Where  I  intend  holy  confession. 

Egl.   I  will  not  fail  your  ladyship.     Good  morrow. 
Gentle  lady. 

Sz'l.  Good  morrow,  kind  Sir  Eglamour. 

{^Exeunt  Eglamour,  and  Silvia  abmie. 

I.  364.  [r.G.v.  48. 


Act  jr.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  IT 

Enter  Launce,  with  his  Dog. 

Laitnce.  When  a  man's  servant  shall  play  the  cur  with 
him,  look  you,  it  goes  hard  :  one  that  I  brought  up  of  a 
puppy  ;  one  that  1  saved  from  drowning,  when  three  or 
four  of  his  blind  brothers  and  sisters  went  to  it !  I  have 
taught  him  —  even  as  one  would  say  precisely.  Thus  I 
would  teach  a  dog.  I  was  sent  to  deliver  him  as  a  pres- 
ent to  Mistress  Silvia  from  my  master  ;  and  I  came  no 
sooner  into  the  dining-chamber,  but  he  steps  me  to  her 
trencher,  and  steals  her  capon's  leg  :  O,  'tis  a  foul  thing 
when  a  cur  cannot  keep  himself  in  all  companies  !  I 
would  have,  as  one  should  say,  one  that  takes  upon  him 
to  be  a  dog  indeed,  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  dog  at  all  things. 
If  I  had  not  had  more  wit  than  he,  to  take  a  fault  upon 
me  that  he  did,  I  think  verily  he  had  been  hanged  for't  ; 
sure  as  I  live,  he  had  suffered  for't:  you  shall  judge.  He 
thrusts  me  himself  into  the  company  of  three  or  four  gen- 
tlemanlike dogs,  under  the  duke's  table  :  he  had  not  been 
there  (bless  the  mark  !)  a  pissing-while,  but  all  the  cham- 
ber smelt  him.  "  Out  with  the  dog,"  says  one  ;  "  What 
cur  is  that .'  "  says  another  ;  "Whip  him  out,"  says  the 
third  ;  "  Hang  him  up,"  says  the  duke.  I,  having  been 
acquainted  with  the  smell  before,  knew  it  was  Crab  ;  and 
goes  me  to  the  fellow  that  whips  the  dogs  :  "  Friend," 
(juoth  I,  "you  mean  to  whip  the  dog.'"  "Ay,  marry,  do 
i,"  quoth  he.  "You  do  him  the  more  wrong,"  quoth  I  ; 
"  'twas  I  did  the  thing  you  wot  of."  He  makes  me  no 
more  ado,  but  whips  me  out  of  the  chamber.  How  many 
masters  would  do  this  for  his  servant?  Nay,  I'll  be 
sworn,  I  have  sat  in  the  stocks  for  puddings  he  hath  stolen, 
otherwise  he  had  been  executed  ;  I  have  stood  on  the  pil- 
lory for  geese  he  hath  killed,  otherwise  he  had  suffered 
lor't. — Thou  thinkest  not  of  this  now  !  Nay,  I  remember 
the  trick  you  served  me  when  I  took  my  leave  of  Madam 
Silvia ;  did  not  I  bid  thee  still  mark  me,  and  do  as  I  do  ? 
when  didst  thou  see  me  heave  up  my  leg  and  make  water 
against  a  gentlewoman's  farthingale.''  didst  thou  ever  see 
me  do  such  a  trick  } 

Re-enter  PROTEUS,  and]\3\AK  in  boy  s  clothes. 
Pro.  Sebastian  is  thy  name  }  I  like  thee  well, 
And  will  employ  thee  in  some  service  presently, 

T.G.V.  4^.]  I.  .^65. 


Actiy.l  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [.Scene  J^, 

Jul.  In  what  you  please  ;  I  will  do  what  I  can. 

Pro.  1  hope  thou  wilt. —  [  To  Laiince]    How  now,  you 
whoreson  peasant ! 
Where  have  you  been  these  two  days  loitering  .-* 

Launce.  Marry,    sir,  I  carried    Mistress  Silvia  the    dog 
you  bade  me. 

Pro.  And  what  says  she  to  my  little  jewel  } 

Launce.  Marry,  she  says  your  dog  was  a  cur,  and  tells 
you  currish  thanks  is  good  enough  for  such  a  present. 

Pro.  But  she  received  my  dog  } 

Launce.  No,  indeed,  did  she  not  :  here  have  I  brought 
him  back  again, 

Pro.   What,  didst  thou  offer  her  this  from  me  } 

Launce.  Ay,  sir;  the  other  squirrel  was  stolen  from  me 
by  the  hangman  boys  in  the  market-place  :  and  then  I 
offered  her  mine  own.- — who  is  a  dog  as  big  as  ten  of 
yours,  and  therefore  the  gift  the  greater. 

Pro.   Go  get  thee  hence,  and  find  my  dog  again. 
Or  ne'er  return  again  into  my  sight. 
Away,  1  say  !  stay'st  thou  to  vex  me  here  } 
A  slave,  that  still  an  end  turns  me  to  shame  ! 

\Exit  Launce. 
Sebastian,  I  have  entertained  thee, 
Partly  that  I  have  need  of  such  a  youth, 
That  can  with  some  discretion  do  my  business. 
For  'tis  no  trusting  to  yond  foolish  lout  ; 
But  chiefly  for  thy  face  and  thy  behavior, 
Which  —  if  my  augury  deceive  me  not  — 
Witness  good  bringing  up,  fortune,  and  truth  : 
Therefore  know  thou,  for  this  I  entertain  thee. 
Go  presently,  and  take  this  ring  with  thee. 
Deliver  it  to  Madam  Silvia  : 
She  lov'd  me  well  deliver'd  it  to  me. 

Jul.  It  seems  you  lov'd  not  her,  to  leave  her  token. 
She's  dead,  belike  ? 

Pro.  Not  so  ;  I  think  she  lives. 

Jul.  Alas! 

Pro.   Why  dost  thou  cry,  "  Alas  "  .'' 

Jul.  I  cannot  choose 

But  pity  her. 

Pro.  Wherefore  shouldst  thou  pity  her? 

Jul.  Because  methinks  that  she  lov'd  you  as  well 

I.  366.  [t.g.v.  50. 


Act/K]  TWO  GEN TLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene Ii. 

As  you  do  love  your  lady  Silvia  : 

She  dreams  on  him  that  has  forgot  her  love; 

You  dote  on  her  that  cares  not  for  your  love. 

'Tis  pity  love  should  be  so  contrary  ; 

And  thinking  on  it  makes  me  cry,  "  Alas  !  " 

Pro.  Well,  well,  give  her  that  ring,  and  therewithal 
This  letter:  —  that's  her  chamber:  —  tell  my  lady 
I  claim  the  promise  for  her  heavenly  picture. 
Your  message  done,  hie  home  unto  my  chainber, 
Where  thou  shalt  find  me,  sad  and  solitary.  [Exit, 

Jill.    How  man)-  women  would  do  such  a  message  } 
Alas,  poor  Proteus  !  thou  hast  entertain'd 
A  fox  to  be  the  shepherd  of  thy  lambs  :  — 
Alas,  poor  fool  !  why  do  I  pity  him, 
That  with  his  very  heart  despiseth  me  } 
Because  he  loves  her,  he  despiseth  me ; 
Because  I  love  him,  I  must  pity  him. 
This  ring  I  gave  him  when  he  parted  from  me, 
To  bind  him  to  remember  my  good  will : 
And  now  am  I  —  unhappy  messengei'  — 
To  plead  for  that  which  I  would  not  obtain  ; 
To  carry  that  which  I  would  have  refus'd  ; 
To  praise  his  faith  which  I  would  have  disprais'd. 
I  am  my  master's  true-confirmed  love  ; 
But  cannot  be  true  servant  to  my  master. 
Unless  I  prove  false  traitor  to  myself. 
Yet  will  I  woo  for  him  ;  but  yet  so  coldly 
As,  heaven  it  knows,  I  would  not  have  him  speed. 

Enter  Silvia  behnv,  attended. 

Gentlewoman,  good  day  !  I  pray  you,  be  my  mean 
To  bring  me  where  to  speak  with  Madam  Silvia. 

Sil.  'What  would  you  with  her,  if  that  I  be  she  } 

Jut.  If  you  be  she,  I  do  entreat  your  patience 
To  hear  me  speak  the  message  I  am  sent  on. 

St'l.  From  whom  ? 

Jul.  From  my  master.  Sir  Proteus,  madam. 

St'l.  O, —  he  sends  you  for  a  picture  .'' 

Jul.  Ay.  madam. 

SzL  Ursula,  bring  my  picture  there. — 

[  The  p/ctu're  t's  brought. 
Go  give  your  master  this  :  tell  him,  from  me, 

T.G.v.st.]  1.367. 


Act  rV.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA  [S  ene  11. 

One  Julia,  that  his  changing  thoughts  forget, 
Would  better  fit  his  chamber  than  this  shadow. 

Jul.  Madam,  please  you  peruse  this  letter  :  — 

[Gives  a  letter. 
Pardon  me,  madam  ;  I  have  unadvis'd 
Deliver'd  you  a  paper  that  I  should  not : 
This  is  the  letter  to  your  ladyship.  {Gives  another. 

Sil.  I  pray  thee,  let  me  look  on  that  again. 

Jul.  It  may  not  be:  good  madam,  pardon  me. 

Sil.  There,  hold  : —  {Gives  back  the  first  letter. 

I  will  not  look  upon  your  master's  lines  : 
I  know  they're  stuff'd  with  protestations, 
And  full  of  new-found  oaths;  which  he  will  break 
As  easily  as  I  do  tear  his  paper.  [  Tears  the  second  letter. 

Jul.  Madam,  he  sends  your  ladyship  this  ring. 

Sil.  The  more  shame  for  him  that  he  sends  it  me  ; 
For  I  have  heard  him  say  a  thousand  times 
His  Julia  gave  it  him  at  his  departure. 
Though  his  false  finger  have  profan'd  the  ring, 
Mine  shall  not  do  his  Julia  so  much  wrong. 

Jul.  She  thanks  you. 

Sil.  What  say'st  thou  ? 

Jul.  I  thank  you,  madam,  that  you  tender  her. 
Poor  gentlewoman  !  my  master  wrongs  her  much. 

Sil.  Dost  thou  know  her  ? 

Jul.  Almost  as  well  as  I  do  know  myself 
To  think  upon  her  woes  I  do  protest 
That  I  have  wept  a  hundred  several  times. 

Sil.  Belike  she  thinks  that  Proteus  hath  forsook  her, 

Jul.  I  think  she  doth  ;  and  that's  her  cause  of  sorrow 

Sil.  Is  she  not  passing  fair.-* 

Jul.  She  hath  been  fairer,  madam,  than  she  is : 
When  she  did  think  my  master  lov'd  her  well. 
She,  in  my  judgment,  was  as  fair  as  you  ; 
But  since  she  did  neglect  her  looking-glass, 
And  threw  her  sun-expelling  mask  away. 
The  air  hath  starv'd  the  roses  in  her  cheeks, 
And  pinch'd  the  lily-tincture  of  her  face, 
That  now  she  is  become  as  black  as  I. 

Sil.  How  tall  was  she  ? 

Jul.  About'  my  stature  :  for,  at  Pentecost, 
When  all  our  pageants  of  delight  were  play'd, 

1.368.  [tg.v.  52. 


Aci/V.-[  TIVO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene  Tl 

Our  youth  got  me  to  play  the  woman's  part, 
And  I  was  trimm'd  in  Madam  Julia's  gown  ; 
Which  served  me  as  fit,  by  all  men's  judgments, 
As  if  the  garment  had  been  made  for  me  : 
Therefore  I  know  she  is  about  my  height. 
And  at  that  time  I  made  her  weep  a-good, 
For  I  did  play  a  lamentable  part ; 
Madam,  'twas  Ariadne,  passioning 
For  Theseus'  perjury  and  unjust  flight : 
Which  I  so  lively  acted  with  my  tears, 
That  my  poor  mistress,  moved  therewithal, 
Wept  bitterly ;  and,  would  I  might  be  dead, 
If  I  in  thought  felt  not  her  very  sorrow  ! 

5/7.  She  is  beholding  to  thee,  gentle  youth:  — 
Alas,  poor  lady,  desolate  and  left  !  — 
I  weep  myself  to  think  upon  thy  words. 
Here,  youth,  there  is  my  purse  :  I  give  thee  this 
For  thy  sweet  mistress'  sake,  because  thou  lov'st  her. 
Farewell. 

Jul.  And  she  shall  thank  you  for't  if  e'er  you  know  her. 
[Exit  Silvia  iv/'fh  Attendants. 
A  virtuous  gentlewoman,  mild  and  beautiful  ! 
I  hope  my  master's  suit  will  be  but  cold, 
Since  she  respects  my  mistress'  love  so  much. 
Alas,  how  love  can  trifle  with  itself ! 
Here  is  her  picture  :  let  me  see  ;  I  think, 
If  I  had  such  a  tire,  this  face  of  mine 
Were  full  as  lovely  as  is  this  of  hers : 
And  yet  the  painter  flatter'd  her  a  little, 
Unless  I  flatter  with  myself  too  much. 
Her  hair  is  auburn,  mine  is  perfect  yellow  : 
If  that  be  all  the  difference  in  his  love, 
I'll  get  me  such  a  color'd  periwig. 
Her  eyes  are  gray  as  glass  ;  and  so  are  mine : 
Ay,  but  her  forehead's  low,  and  mine's  as  high. 
What  should  it  be  that  he  respects  in  her, 
But  I  can  make  respective  in  myself. 
If  this  fond  Love  were  not  a  blinded  god  ? 
Come,  shadow,  come,  and  take  this  shadow  up, 
For  'tis  thy  rival.     O  thou  senseless  form, 
Thou  shalt  be  worship'd.  kiss'd,  lov'd,  and  ador'd ! 
And,  were  there  sense  in  his  idolatry, 

T.G.V.  S3.]  I.  369. 


Act  y.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Sfenc  Jr'l. 

My  substance  should  be  statue  in  thy  stead. 

I'll  use  thee  kindly  for  thy  mistress'  sake, 

That  us'd  me  so  ;  or  else,  by  Jove  I  vow, 

I  should  have  scratched  out  your  unseeing  eyes, 

To  make  my  master  out  of  love  with  thee  !  \^Exit. 

ACT  V. 

Scene  I.  Milan.  An  abbey. 

Enter  Eglamour. 

E^l.  The  sun  begins  to  gild  the  western  sky  ; 
Ana  now  it  is  about  the  very  hour 
That  Silvia,  at  Friar  Patrick's  cell,  should  meet  me. 
She  will  not  fail;  for  lovers  break  not  hours, 
Unless  it  be  to  come  before  their  time  ; 
So  much  they  spur  their  expedition. 
See  where  she  comes. 

Enter  Silvia. 

Lady,  a  happy  evening  1 
Sil.  Amen,  amen  !     Go  on,  good  Eglamour, 

Out  at  the  postern  by  the  abbey-wall  : 

I  fear  I  am  attended  by  some  spies. 

Egl.  Fear  not  :  the  forest  is  not  three  leagues  off ; 

If  we  recover  that,  we're  sure  enough.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.      T/te  same.     A  rootn  in  the  Duke's  palace. 
Enter  Thurio,  Proteus,  rt«^  Julia  in  boys  clothes. 

Thu.  Sir  Proteus,  what  says  Silvia  to  my  suit } 
Pro.  O,  sir,  I  lind  her  milder  than  she  was ; 
And  yet  she  takes  exceptions  at  your  person. 
Thu.  What,  that  my  leg  is  too  long  } 
Pro.  No  ;  that  it  is  too  little. 

Thu.  I'll  wear  a  boot,  to  make  it  somewhat  rounder. 
Jul.  [aside]  But    love  will   not  be  spurr'd  to  what  it 

loathes. 
Thu.  What  says  she  to  my  face  ? 
Pro.  She  says  it  is  a  fair  one. 

Thu.  Nay.  then,  the  wanton  lies  ;  my  face  is  black. 
Pro.  But  pearls  are  fair  ;  and  the  old  saying  is, 
Black  men  are  pearls  in  beauteous  ladies'  eyes. 

I.  370.  [t.g.v.  s*. 


Act  v.]  TWO  GENTLEMEX  OF  VERONA.  {Scene  11. 

Jul.  \aside\   'Tis  true,  such  pearls  as  put  out    ladies' 
eyes ; 
For  I  had  rather  wink  than  look  on  them. 
Thii.  How  likes  she  my  discourse  ? 
Pro.  Ill,  when  you  talk  of  war. 

Thu.  But  well,  when  I  discourse  of  love  and  peace  ? 
Jul.   \aside\  But,  indeed,  better  when  you   hold   your 

peace. 
Thu.  What  says  she  to  my  valor. ^ 
Pro.  O,  sir,  she  makes 

No  doubt  of  that. 
Jul.  \aside\  She  needs  not,  when  she  knows  it  coward- 
ice. 
Thu.    What  says  she  to  my  birth  } 
Pro.  That  you  are  well  deriv'd. 
Jitl.   \astde\  True  ;  from  a  gentleman  to  a  fool. 
Thu.   Considers  she  my  possessions  .'' 
Pro.  O,  ay  ;  and  pities  them. 
Thu.  Wherefore  ? 

Jul.  \aside\  That  such  an  ass  should  owe  them. 
Pro.    That  they  are  out  by  lease. 
■  Jul.  Here  comes  the  duke. 

Enter  Duke. 

Duke,  How  now,  Sir  Proteus  !  how  now,  Thurio  ! 
Which  of  you  saw  Sir  Eglamour  of  late  ? 

Thu.  Not  I. 

Pro.  Nor  I. 

Duke.  SSw  you  my  daughter .' 

Pro.  Neither. 

Duke.  Why,  then,  she's  fled  unto  that  peasant  Valen- 
tine ; 
And  Eglamour  is  in  her  company. 
'Tis  true  ;  for  Friar  Laurence  met  them  both. 
As  he  in  penance  wander'd  through  the  forest : 
Him  he  knew  well :  and  guess'd  that  it  was  she, 
But,  being  mask'd,  he  was  not  sure  of  it : 
Besides,  she  did  intend  confession 
At  Patrick's  cell  this  even  ;  and  there  she  was  not  ; 
These  likelihoods  confirm  her  flight  from  hence. 
Therefore,  I  pray  you,  stand  not  to  discourse. 
But  mount  you  presently  :  and  meet  with  me 

T.G.V.  55.]  I.  ill: 


Acty.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.     \_Scenes  III-IV. 

Upon  the  rising  of  the  mountain-foot 

That  leads  towards  Mantua,  whither  they  are  fled  : 

Dispatch,  sweet  gentlemen,  and  follow  me.  \^Extt. 

Thu.  Why,  this  it  is  to  be  a  peevish  girl, 
That  flies  her  fortune  when  it  follows  her. 
I'll  after,  more  to  be  reveng'd  on  Eglamour 
Than  for  the  love  of  reckless  Silvia.  {Exit. 

Pro.  And  1  will  follow,  more  for  Silvia's  love 
Than  hate  of  Eglamour,  that  goes  with  her.  {Exit. 

Jul.  And  I  will  follow,  more  to  cross  that  love 
Than  hate  for  Silvia,  that  is  gone  for  love.  {Exit. 

Scene  III.     The  fore:t. 
Ente?'  Outlaws   wtt/i  Silvia. 
First  Out.  Come,  come  ; 
Be  patient ;  we  must  bring  you  to  our  captain, 

Sil.  A  thousand  more  mischances  than  this  one 
Have  learn 'd  me  how  to  brook  this  patiently. 
Sec.  Out.  Come,  bring  her  away. 

First  Out.   Where  is  the  gentleman  that  was  with  her? 
Third  Out.  Being  nimble-footed,  he  hath  outrun  us, 
But  Moses  and  \"alerius  follow  him. 
Go  thou  with  her  to  the  west  end  of  the  wood  ; 
There  is  our  captain  :  we'll  follow  him  that's  fled  ; 
The  thicket  is  beset,  he  cannot  scape. 

{Exeunt  all  except  the  First  Outlaw  afid  Silvia. 
First  Out.  Come,  I  must  bring  you  to  our  captain's 
ca\'e : 
Fear  not  ;  he  bears  an  honorable  miffd. 
And  will  not  use  a  woman  lawlessly. 

Sil.  O  Valentine,  this  I  endure  for  thee  !  {Exeunt, 

Scene  IV.      Another  part  of  the  forest. 
Enter  VALENTINE. 
Val.  How  use  doth  breed  a  habit  in  a  man  ! 
These  shadowy,  desert,  unfrequented  woods 
I  better  brook  than  flourishing  peopled  towns 
Here  can  I  sit  alone,  unseen  of  any, 
And  to  the  nightingale's  complaining  notes 
Tune  my  distresses  and  record  my  woes. 
O  thou  that  dost  inhabit  in  my  breast. 
Leave  not  the  mansion  so  long  tenantless, 

I.  373-  [t.O.v,  56. 


Act  K]  two  GENTLEMEN   OF  VERONA.  \Scene  tV. 

Lest,  growing  ruinous,  the  building  fall. 

And  leave  no  memory  of  what  it  was  ! 

Repair  me  with  thy  presence,  Silvia  ;  [within. 

Thou  gentle  nymph,  cherish  thy  forlorn  swain  !       [Noise 

What  halloing  and  what  stir  is  this  to-day  ? 

These  are  my  mates,  that  make  their  wills  their  law, 

Have  some  unhappy  passenger  in  chase  : 

They  love  me  well ;  yet  I  have  much  to  do 

To  keep  them  from  uncivil  outrages. — 

Withdraw  thee,  Valentine  :  who's  this  comes  here  ? 

[Retires. 

Enter  Proteus,  Silvia,   and  ]\}\a\  in  boy's  clothes. 

Pro,  Madam,  this  service  I  have  done  for  you, — 
Though  you  respect  not  aught  your  servant  doth, — 
To  hazard  life,  and  rescue  you  from  him 
That  would  have  forc'd  your  honor  and  your  love : 
Vouchsafe  me,  for  my  meed,  but  one  fair  look  ; 
A  smaller  boon  than  this  I  cannot  beg. 
And  less  than  this,  I'm  sure,  you  cannot  give. 

Val.    [aside']  How  like  a  dream  is  this  I  see  and  hear  ! 
Love,  lend  me  patience  to  forbear  awhile. 

Sil.  O  miserable,  unhappy  that  I  am  ! 

}'ro.  Unhappy  were  you,  madam,  ere  I  came  ; 
But  by  my  coming  I  have  made  you  happy. 

SH.  By  thy  approach  thou  mak'st  me  most  unhappy. 

Jul.  [aside]  And  me,  when    he   approacheth  to  your 
presence. 

Si/,  Had  I  been  seized  by  a  hungry  lion, 
I  Vv^ould  have  been  a  breakfast  to  the  beast, 
Rather  than  have  false  Proteus  rescue  me, 
O,  Heaven  be  judge  how  I  love  Valentine, 
Whose  life's  as  tender  to  me  as  my  soul ; 
And  full  as  much  —  for  more  there  cannot  be  — 
I  do  detest  false  perjur'd  Proteus  ! 
Therefore  be  gone,  solicit  me  no  more. 

Pro.  What  dangerous  action,  stood  it  next  to  death, 
Would  I  not  undergo  for  one  calm  look  ? 
O,  'tis  the  curse  in  love,  and  still  approv'd, 
When  vvomen  cannot  love  where  they're  belov'd  ! 

Sit.  When  Proteus  cannot  love  where  he's  belov'd. 
Read  over  Julia's  heart,  thy  first  best  love, 
Foi  wt>ose  dear  sake  thou  didst  then  rend  thy  faith 

[T.&  -   -  ]  1.  373- 


Acfy.")  TU^O   GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene IV. 

Into  a  thousand  oaths  ;  and  all  those  oaths 
Descended  into  perjury,  to  love  me. 
Thou  hast  no  faith  left  now,  unless  thou'dst  two, 
And  that's  far  worse  than  none  ;  better  have  nono 
Than  plural  faith,  which  is  too  much  by  one  ; 
Thou  counterfeit  to  thy  true  friend  ! 

Pro.  In  love 

Who  respects  friend  ? 

St'l.  All  men  but  Proteus. 

Pro.  Nay,  if  the  gentle  spirit  of  moving  words 
Can  no  way  change  you  to  a  milder  form, 
I'll  woo  you  like  a  soldier,  at  arms'  end, 
And  love  you  'gainst  the  nature  of  love, —  force  ye. 

Si'l.  O  heaven  ! 

Pro.  I'll  force  thee  yield  to  my  desire. 

Val.   \comtng  forward \   Ruffian,  let  go  that  rude,  un- 
civil touch, — 
Thou  friend  of  an  ill  fashion  ! 

Pro.  Valentine  ! 

X^al.    Thou   conmion  friend,    that's    without   faith  or 
love, — 
For  such  is  a  friend  now  ;  —  thou  treacherous  man  ! 
Thou  hast  beguil'd  my  hopes  ;  naught  but  mine  eye 
Could  have  persuaded  me  :  now  I  dare  not  say 
I  have  one  friend  alive  ;  thou  wouldst  disprove  me. 
Who  should  be  trusted,  when  one's  own  right  hand 
Is  perjur'd  to  the  bosom  .''  Proteus, 
I'm  sorry  I  must  never  trust  thee  more. 
But  count  the  world  a  stranger  for  thy  sake. 
The  private  wound  is  deep'st :  O  time  most  curst, 
'Mongst  all  foes  that  a  friend  should  be  the  worst ! 

Pro.  My  shame  and  guilt  confound  me, — 
Forgive  me,  Valentine  :  if  hearty  sorrow 
Be  a  sufficient  ransom  for  offense, 
I  tender't  here ;  I  do  as  truly  suffer 
As  e'er  I  did  commit. 

Val.  Then  I  am  paid  ; 

And  once  again  I  do  receive  thee  honest  :  — 
Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied 
Is  nor  of  heaven  nor  earth  ;  for  these  are  pleas'd 
By  penitence  th'  Eternal's  wrath's  appeas'd  :  — 

1.374.  [t.g.v.5«. 


Aetl-'.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  {Srine  IV. 

And,  that  my  love  may  appear  plain  and  free, 
All  that  was  mine  in  Silvia  I  give  thee. 

Jill.  O  me  unhajjpy  !  {Faints. 

Pro.  Look  to  the  boy. 

Veil.  Why,  boy  !    why,  wag !  how  now  !   what  is  the 
matter  ? 
Look  up ;  speak. 

Jul.  O  good  sir,  my  master  charg'd  me 

To  deliver  a  ring  to  Madam  Silvia  ; 
Which,  out  of  my  neglect,  was  never  done. 

Pro.  Where  is  that  ring,  boy  } 

Jul.  Here  'tis  ;  this  is  it.     \Gives  a  ring. 

Pro.  How  !  let  me  see  :  — 
Why,  this  is  the  ring  I  gave  to  Julia. 

Jul.  O,  cry  you  mercy,  sir,  I  have  mistook  : 
This  is  the  ring  you  sent  to  Silvia.    ^Shows  another  ring. 

Pro.  But  how  cam'st  thou  by  this  ring  } 
At  my  depart  I  gave  this  unto  Julia. 

[ul.  And  Julia  herself  did  give  it  me  ; 
And  Julia  herself  hath  brought  it  hithei. 

Pro.  How  !  Julia  I 

Jul.  Behold  her  that  gave  aim  to  all  thy  oaths, 
And  entertain 'd  'em  deeply  in  her  heart  : 
How  oft  hast  thou  with  perjury  cleft  the  root ! 
O  Proteus,  let  this  habit  make  thee  blush  ! 
Be  thou  asham'd  that  I  have  took  upon  me 
Such  an  immodest  raiment, —  if  shame  live 
In  a  disguise  of  love  : 
It  is  the  lesser  blot,  modesty  finds, 
Women  to  change  their  shapes  than  men  their  minds. 

Pro.  Than    men    their   minds !    'lis    true.     O    heaven, 
were  man 
But  constant,  he  were  perfect !  that  one  error 
Fills  him  with  faults ;  makes  him  run  through  all  sins  ; 
Inconstancy  falls  off  ere  it  begins. 
What  is  in  Silvia's  face,  but  I  may  spy 
More  fresh  in  Julia's  with  a  constant  eye.' 

Val.  Come,  come,  a  hand  from  either : 
Let  me  be  bless'd  to  make  this  happy  close ; 
'Twere  pity  two  such  friends  should  be  long  foes. 

Pro.  Bear  witness,  Heaven,  I  have  my  wish  for  ever. 

Jul.  And  I  mine. 

T.«s.v.59.]  1. 375. 


Aci.r.]  TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA.  [Scene /y. 

Enter  Outlaws,  with  Duke  and  ThuriO. 

Outlaws.  A  prize,  a  prize,  a  prize ! 

Val.  Forbear, — 

Forbear,  I  say  !  it  is  my  lord  the  duke. — 
Your  grace  is  welcome  to  a  man  disgrac'd, 
Banished  Valentine. 

Duke.  Sir  Valentine  ! 

Thu.  Yonder  is  Silvia ;  and  Silvia's  mine. 

Val.  Thurio,  give  back,  or  else  embrace  thy  death  ; 
Come  not  within  the  measure  of  my  wrath  : 
Do  not  name  Silvia  thine;  if  once  again, 
Milano  shall  not  hold  thee.     Here  she  stands : 
Take  but  possession  of  her  with  a  touch ;  — 
I  dare  thee  but  to  breathe  upon  my  love. 

Thu.  Sir  Valentine,  I  care  not  for  her,  I  ; 
I  hold  him  but  a  fool  that  will  endanger 
His  body  for  a  girl  that  loves  him  not : 
I  claim  her  not,  and  therefore  she  is  thine. 

Duke.  The  more  degenerate  and  base  art  thou, 
To  make  such  means  for  her  as  thou  hast  done. 
And  leave  her  on  such  slight  conditions. — 
Now,  by  the  honor  of  my  ancestry, 
I  do  applaud  thy  spirit,  Valentine, 
And  think  thee  worthy  of  an  empress'  love : 
Know,  then,  I  here  forget  all  former  griefs, 
Cancel  all  grudge,  repeal  thee  home  again. 
Plead  a  new  state  in  thy  unrival'd  merit, 
To  which  I  thus  subscribe, —  Sir  Valentine, 
Thou  art  a  gentleman,  and  well  deriv'd ; 
Take' thou  thy  Silvia,  for  thou  hast  deser\''d  her. 

Val.  I  thank  your  grace;  the  gift  hath  made  me  happy. 
I  now  beseech  you,  for  your  daughter's  sake. 
To  grant  one  boon  that  I  shall  ask  of  you. 

Duke.  I  grant  it,  for  thine  own,  whate'er  it  be. 

Val.  These  banish'd  men,  that  I  have  kept  withal. 
Are  men  endu'd  with  worthy  qualities : 
Forgive  them  what  they  have  committed  here, 
And  let  them  be  recall'd  from  their  exile : 
They  are  reformed,  civil,  full  of  good. 
And  fit  for  great  employment,  worthy  lord. 

Duke.  Thou  hast  prev^ail'd  ;  I  pardon  them  and  thee  : 
Dispose  of  them  as  thou  know'st  their  deserts. — 

I.  376.  [tg.v.  60. 


Aefy.]  TiyO  GENTLEMEN'  OF  I'EROffA.  [Scene  IV. 

Come,  let  us  go  :  we  will  include  all  jars 
With  triumphs,  mirth,  and  rare  solemnity. 

Val.  And,  as  we  walk  along,  I  dare  be  bold 
With  our  discourse  to  make  your  grace  to  smile. 
What  think  you  of  this  page,  my  lord  ? 

Duke.  I  think  the  boy  hath  grace  in  him  ;  he  blushes, 

Val.  I  warrant  you,  my  lord,  more  grace  than  boy. 

Duke.  What  mean  you  by  that  saying  ? 

Val.  Please  you,  I'll  tell  you  as  we  pass  along. 
That  you  will  wonder  what  hath  fortuned. — 
Come,  Proteus  ;  'tis  your  penance,  but  to  hear 
The  story  of  your  loves  discovered  : 
That  done,  our  day  of  marriage  shall  be  yours  ; 
One  feast,  one  house,  one  mutual  happiness.        {Exeunt, 


T.G.V.  61.1 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


THE 


COMEDY  OF  ERRORS. 


DRAMATIS     PERSONiE. 


SOLINUS,  duke  of  Ephesus. 

.i^GEON,  a  merchant  of  Syra- 
cuse. 

Antipholi's  of  Ephesus  and 
Antipholus  of  Syracuse, 
twin  hrolhcrs,  and  sons  to 
.Pigeon  and  /Emilia 

Dromio  of  Ephe>us,  and  Dro- 
Mio  of  Syracuse,  twin  broth- 
ers, and  attendants  on  the 
two  Antipholu'ies. 

Balthazar,  a  merchant. 

Angelo,  a  goldsmith. 

Gaoler,  Officers,  an 


First  Merchant,  friend  to 
Antipholus  of  Syracuse. 

Second  Merchant,  to  whom 
Angelo  is  a  debtor. 

Pinch,  a  schoolmastei'. 

Emilia,  wife  to  .^geon,    an 

abbess  at  Ephesus. 
Adriana,  wife  to  Antipholu- 

of  Ephesus. 
LuciANA,  her  sister. 
Luce,  servant  to  Adriana. 
A  Courtesan. 

d  other  Attendants. 


SCKHS.— Ephesus. 


ACT  I. 

Scene  I.     A  hali  vi  the  DnVt's  palace. 

Enter  Duke,  tEgeon,  Gaoler,  Officers,  and  other 
Attendants. 

Aige.  Proceed,  Solinus,  to  procure  my  fall. 
And  by  the  doom  of  death  end  woes  and  all. 

Duke.  Merchant  of  Syracusa,  plead  no  more; 
I  am  not  partial  to  infringe  our  laws  : 
The  enmity  and  discord  which  of  late 
Sprung  from  the  rancorous  outrage  of  your  duke 
To  merchants,  our  well-dealing  countrymen, — 
Who,  wanting  guilders  to  redeem  their  lives, 

C.O.B.  3.1  I     381. 


/id  /.J  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  iScem  1. 

Have  seal'd  his  rigorous  statutes  with  their  bloods, — 

Excludes  all  pity  from  our  threatening  looks. 

For,  since  the  mortal  and  intestine  jars 

'Twixt  thy  seditious  countrymen  and  us, 

It  hath  in  solemn  synods  been  decreed. 

Both  by  the  Syracusians  and  ourselves, 

T'  admit  no  traffic  to  our  adverse  towns : 

Nay,  more,  if  any  born  at  Ephesus 

Be  seen  at  Syracusian  marts  and  fairs  ; 

Again,  if  any  Syracusian  born 

Come  to  the  bay  of  Ephesus,  he  dies, 

His  goods  confiscate  to  the  duke's  dispose  ; 

Unless  a  thousand  marks  be  levied. 

To  quit  the  penalty  and  ransom  him. 

Thy  substance,  valu'd  at  the  highest  rate, 

Cannot  amount  unto  a  hundred  marks  ; 

Therefore  by  law  thou  art  condemn'd  to  die. 

^ge.    Yet  this  my  comfort, —  when   your  words  are 
done. 
My  woes  end  likewise  with  the  evening  sun. 

Duke.  Well,  Syracusian,  say,  in  brief,  the  cause 
Why  thou  departed's!  from  thy  native  home. 
And  for  what  cause  thou  cani'st  to  Ephesus. 

^ge.  A  heavier  task  could  not  have  been  iuipos'd 
'  Than  I  to  speak  my  griefs  unspeakable  . 
Yet,  that  the  world  may  witness  that  my  end 
Was  wrought  by  nature,  not  by  vile  offense, 
I'll  utter  what  my  sorrow  gives  me  leave. 
In  Syracusa  was  I  born  ;  and  wed 
Unto  a  woman,  happy  but  for  me, 
And  by  me  too,  had  not  our  hap  been  bad. 
With  her  I  liv'd  in  joy  ;  our  wealth  increas'd 
By  prosperous  voyages  I  often  made 
To  Epidamnum  ;  till  my  factor's  death. 
And  the  great  care  of  goods  at  random  left, 
Drew  me  from  kind  embracements  of  my  spouse  : 
From  whom  my  absence  was  not  six  months  old, 
Before  herself  —  almost  at  fainting  under 
The  pleasing  punishment  that  women  bear  — 
Had  made  provision  for  her  following  me. 
And  soon  and  safe  arrived  where  I  was. 
There  had  she  not  been  long  but  she  became 

I.  38a.  [CQ.S.  ^ 


Aff/.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  1. 

A  joyful  mother  of  two  goodly  sons  ; 

And,  which  was  strange,  the  one  so  like  the  other 

As  could  not  be  distinguish 'd  but  by  names. 

That  very  hour,  and  in  the  self-same  inn, 

A  meaner  woman  was  delivered 

Of  such  a  burden,  male  twins,  both  alike : 

Those,  for  their  parents  were  exceeding  poor, 

I  bought,  and  brought  up  to  attend  my  sons. 

My  wife,  not  meanly  proud  of  two  such  boys, 

Made  daily  motions  for  our  home  return  : 

Unwilling  I  agreed.     Alas,  too  soon 

We  came  aboard  ! 

A  league  from  Epidamnum  had  we  sail'd, 

Before  the  always-wind-obeying  deep  - 

Gave  any  tragic  instance  of  our  harm  : 

But  longer  did  we  not  retain  much  hope ; 

For  what  obscured  light  the  heavens  did  grant 

Did  but  convey  unto  our  fearful  minds 

A  doubtful  warrant  of  immediate  death  ; 

Which  though  myself  would  gladly  have  emhrac'd. 

Yet  the  incessant  weepings  of  my  wife, 

Weeping  before  for  what  she  saw  must  come, 

And  piteous  plainings  of  the  pretty  babes, 

That  mourn 'd  for  fashion,  ignorant  what  to  fear, 

Forc'd  me  to  seek  delays  for  them  and  me. 

And  this  it  was, —  for  other  means  was  none  :  — 

The  sailors  sought  for  safety  by  our  boat, 

And  left  the  ship,  then  sinking-ripe,  to  us : 

My  wife,  more  careful  for  the  latter-born, 

Had  fasten'd  him  unto  a  small  spare  mast, 

Such  as  seafaring  men  provide  for  storms  ; 

To  him  one  of  the  other  twins  was  bound. 

Whilst  I  had  been  like  heedful  of  the  other : 

The  children  thus  dispos'd,  my  wife  and  I, 

Fixing  our  eyes  on  whom  our  care  was  fix'd, 

Fasten'd  ourselves  at  either  end  the  mast  ; 

And  floating  straight,  obedient  to  the  stream. 

Were  carried  towards  Corinth,  as  we  thought. 

At  length  the  sun,  gazing  upon  the  earth, 

Dispers'd  those  vapors  that  offended  us ; 

And,  by  the  benefit  of  his  wish'd  light. 

The  seas  wax'd  calm,  and  we  discovered 

CO.B.  5.]  I.  383. 


Met/.)  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \Scent  I. 

Two  ships  from  far  making  amain  to  us, 
Of  Corinth  that,  of  Epidaurus  this  : 
But  ere  they  came, —  (),  let  me  say  no  more ! 
Gather  the  sequel  by  that  went  before. 

Duke.  Nay,  forward,  old  man  ;  do  not  break  off  so  ; 
For  we  may  pity,  though  not  pardon  thee. 

yEge.  O,  had  the  gods  done  so,  I  had  not  now 
Worthily  term'd  them  merciless  to  us  I 
For,  ere  the  ships  could  meet  by  twice  five  leagues, 
We  were  encounter'd  by  a  mighty  rock  ; 
Which  being  violently  borne  upon, 
Our  helpful  ship  was  splitted  in  the  midst  ; 
So  that,  in  this  unjust  divorce  of  us. 
Fortune  had  left  to  both  of  us  alike 
What  to  delight  in,  what  to  sorrow  for. 
Her  part,  poor  soul  I  seeming  as  burdened 
With  lesser  weight,  but  not  with  lesser  woe. 
Was  carried  with  more  speed  before  the  wind ; 
And  in  our  sight  they  three  were  taken  up 
By  fishermen  of  Corinth,  as  we  thought. 
At  length,  the  other  ship  had  seiz'd  on  us  ; 
And,  knowing  whom  it  was  their  hap  to  save. 
Gave  healthful  welcome  to  their  shipwreck'd  guests ; 
And  would  have  reft  the  fishers  of  their  prey. 
Had  not  their  bark  been  very  slow  of  sail. 
And  therefore  homeward  did  thev  bend  their  course.— 
Thus  have  you  heard  me  sever'd  from  my  bliss ; 
That  by  misfortune  was  my  life  prolong'd, 
To  tell  sad  stories  of  my  own  mishaps. 

Duke.  And,  for  the  sake  of  them  thou  sorrow's!  for, 
Do  me  the  favor  to  dilate  at  full 
What  hath  befall'n  of  them  and  thee  till  now. 

^£ge.  My  youngest  boy,  and  yet  my  eldest  care, 
At  eighteen  years  became  inquisitive 
After  his  brother  ;  and  importun'd  me 
That  his  attendant  —  for  his  case  was  like. 
Reft  of  his  brother,  but  retain'd  his  name  — 
Might  bear  him  company  in  the  quest  of  him  : 
Whom  whilst  I  labor'd  of  a  love  to  see. 
I  hazarded  the  loss  of  whom  I  lov'd. 
Five  summers  have  I  spent  in  furthest  Greece, 
Roaming  clean  through  the  bounds  of  Asia, 

1.384.  [c.o.K.  6. 


Act  /.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  11. 

And,  coasting  homeward,  came  to  Ephesus  ; 
Hopeless  to  find,  yet  loath  to  leave  unsought 
Or  that,  or  any  place  that  harbors  men. 
But  here  must  end  the  story  of  my  life  ; 
And  happy  were  I  in  my  timely  death. 
Could  all  my  travels  warrant  me  they  live. 

Duke.  Hapless  /Egeon,  whom  the  fates  have  mark'd 
To  bear  th'  extremity  of  dire  mishap  ! 
Now,  trust  me,  were  it  not  against  our  laws, 
Against  my  crown,  my  oath,  my  dignity, — 
Which  princes,  would  they,  may  not  disannul, — 
My  soul  should  sue  as  advocate  for  thee. 
But,  though  thou  art  adjudged  to  the  death. 
And  passed  sentence  may  not  be  recall'd 
But  to  our  honor's  great  disparagement, 
Yet  will  I  favor  thee  in  what  I  can. 
Therefore,  merchant,  I'll  limit  thee  this  day 
To  seek  thy  life  by  beneficial  help  : 
Try  all  the  friends  thou  hast  in  Ephesus; 
Beg  thou,  or  borrow,  to  make  up  the  sum. 
And  live  ;  if  not,  then  thou  art  doom'd  to  die. — 
Gaoler,  now  take  him  to  thy  custody. 

Gaol.  I  will,  my  lord. 

^ge.  Hopeless  and  helpless  doth  ^geon  wend. 
But  to  procrastinate  his  lifeless  end.  [Exeunt. 

Scene  II.    The  Mart. 

Enter  Antipholus  of  Syracuse,   Dromio  of  Syracuse, 
and  First  Merchant. 

Fz'rst  Mer.  Therefore  give  out  you  are  of  Epidamnum, 
Lest  that  your  goods  too  soon  be  confiscate. 
This  very  day  a  Syracusian  merchant 
Is  apprehended  for  arrival  here  ; 
And,  not  being  able  to  bliy  out  his  hfe, 
According  to  the  statute  of  the  town, 
Dies  ere  the  weary  sun  set  in  the  west. 
There  is  your  money  that  I  had  to  keep. 

Ant.  S.  Go  bear  it  to  the  Centaur,  where  we  host, 
And  stay  there,  Dromio,  till  I  come  to  thee. 
Within  this  hour  it  will  be  dinner-time  : 
Till  that,  I'll  view  the  manners  of  the  town, 
Peruse  the  traders,  gaze  upon  the  buildings,. 

e.o.«.  7-]  1-  385- 


Wr/  A]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \_Sce„e  11. 

And  then  return,  and  sleep  within  mine  inn ; 
For  with  long  travel  I  am  stiff  and  weary, 
(iet  thee  away. 

Dro.  S.  Many  a  man  would  take  you  at  your  word, 
And  go  indeed,  having  so  good  a  mean.  \^Exit. 

A7ii.  S.  A  trusty  villain,  sir;  that  very  oft, 
When  I  am  dull  with  care  and  melancholy. 
Lightens  my  humor  with  his  merry  jests. 
What,  will  you  walk  with  me  about  the  town. 
And  then  go  to  my  inn,  and  dine  with  me .'' 

First  Mer.  I  am  invited,  sir,  to  certain  merchants, 
Of  whom  I  hope  to  make  much  benefit ; 
1  crave  your  pardon.     Soon  at  five  o'clock, 
Please  you,  I'll  meet  with  you  upon  the  mart, 
And  afterward  consort  you  till  bed-time  : 
My  present  business  calls  me  from  you  now. 

Ant.  S.  Farewell  till  then  :  I  will  go  lose  myself. 
And  wander  up  and  down  to  view  the  city. 

First  Mer.  Sir,  I  commend  you  to  your  own  content. 

\Exit. 

Ant.  S.  He  that  commends  me  to  mine  own  content 
Commends  me  to  the  thing  I  cannot  get. 
I  to  the  world  am  like  a  drop  of  water. 
That  in  the  ocean  seeks  another  drop  ; 
Who,  falling  there  to  find  his  fellow  forth. 
Unseen,  inquisitive,  confounds  himself : 
So  I,  to  find  a  mother  and  a  brother. 
In  quest  of  them,  unhappy,  lose  myself. — 
Here  comes  the  almanac  of  my  true  date. 

Enter  Dromio  of  Ephesus. 

What  now.-*  how  chance  thou  art  return'd  so  soon  ? 

Dro.  E.  Return'd  so  soon  I  rather  approach'd  too  late  : 
The  capon  burns,  the  pig  falls  from  the  spit  ; 
The  clock  hath  strucken  twelve  upon  the  bell, — 
My  mistress  made  it  one  upon  my  cheek : 
She  is  so  hot,  because  the  meat  is  cold  ; 
The  meat  is  cold,  because  you  come  not  home ; 
You  come  not  home,  because  you  have  no  stomach  ; 
You  have  no  stomach,  having  broke  your  fast ; 
But  we,  that  know  what  'tis  to  fast  and  pray, 
Are  penitent,  for  your  default  to-day. 

1. 386.  tc.o.E.  8. 


Ac//.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  EKRORS.  [Scene //. 

Anf.  S.  Stop  in  your  wind,  sir :  tell  me  this,  I  pray, — 
Where  have  you  left  the  money  that  I  gave  you  ? 

Dro.  E.  O, —  sixpence,  that  I  had  o'  Wednesday  last 
To  pay  the  saddler  for  my  mistress'  crupper  :  — 
The  saddler  had  it,  sir  ;  I  kept  it  not. 

Ant.  S.  I  am  not  in  a  sportive  humor  now  : 
Tell  me,  and  dally  not,  where  is  the  money? 
We  being  strangers  here,  how  dar'st  thou  trust 
So  great  a  charge  from  thine  own  custody  ? 

Dro.  E.  I  pray  you,  jest,  sir,  as  you  sit  at  dinner : 
1  from  my  mistress  come  to  you  in  post ; 
If  I  return,  I  shall  be  post  indeed. 

For  she  will  score  your  fault  upon  my  pate.  /^  •)>i^tvv*» 

Methinks  your  maw,  like  mine,  should  be  your  clock,  \     ,-1  /,  i^.,    J( 
And  strike  you  home  without  a  messenger.  y        '  \) 

Ant.  S.  Come,  Dromio,  come,  these  jests  are  out  of 
season  ; 
Reserve  them  till  a  merrier  hour  than  this. 
Where  is  the  gold  I  gave  in  charge  to  thee  ? 

Dro.  E.  To  me,  sir !  why,  you  gave  no  gold  to  me. 

Ant,  S.  Come  on,  sir  knave,  have  done  your  foolish- 
ness, 
And  tell  me  how  thou  hast  dispos'd  thy  charge. 

Dro.  E.  My  charge  was    but    to   fetch    you   from  the 
mart 
Home  to  your  house,  the  Phoenix,  sir,  to  dinner: 
My  mistress  and  her  sister  stay  for  you. 

Ant.  S.  Now,  as  I  am  a  Christian,  answer  me, 
In  what  safe  place  you  have  bestow'd  my  money ; 
Or  I  shall  break  that  merry  sconce  of  yours, 
That  stands  on  tricks  when  I  am  undispos'd : 
Where  is  the  thousand  marks  thou  hadst  of  me  } 

Dro.  E.  I  have  some  marks  of  yours  upon  my  pate. 
Some  of  my  mistress'  marks  upon  my  shoulders  ; 
But  not  a  thousand  marks  between  you  both. 
If  I  should  pay  your  worship  those  again. 
Perchance  you  will  not  bear  them  patiently. 

Ant.  S.  Thy  mistress'    marks !    what    mistress,  slave, 
hast  thou  ? 

Dro.  E.  Your  worship's  wife,  my  mistress  at  the  Phce- 
nix  ; 

CO.*.  ».J  1.  387. 


Act  //.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \Scene  I. 

She  that  doth  fast  till  you  come  home  to  dinner, 
And  prays  that  you  will  hie  you  home  to  dinner. 
■   Ant.  S.  What,  wilt  thou  flout  me  thus  unto  my  face, 
Being  forbid  ?  There,  take  you  that,  sir  knave. 

[Beating'  hint. 

Dro.  E.  What  mean  you,  sir  }  for  God's    sake,  hold 
your  hands  ! 
Nay,  an  you  will  not,  sir,  I'll  take  my  heels.  {Exit. 

Ant.  S.  Upon  my  life,  by  some  device  or  other 
The  villain  is  o'er-raught  of  all  my  money. 
They  say  this  town  is  full  of  cozenage  ; 
As,  nimble  jugglers  that  deceive  the  eye. 
Dark-working  sorcerers  that  change  the  mind, 
Soul-killing  witches  that  deform  the  body. 
Disguised  cheaters,  prating  mountebanks. 
And  many  such-like  liberties  of  sin  : 
If  it  prove  so,  I  will  be  gone  the  sooner. 
I'll  to  the  Centaur,  to  go  seek  this  slave  : 
I  greatly  fear  my  money  is  not  safe.  \Exit, 

ACT  II. 

Scene  I.  Before  the  house  of  AntipholuS  of  Ephesus. 

Enter  Adriana  and  Luciana. 

Adr.  Neither  my  husband  nor  the  slave  return'd. 
That  in  such  haste  I  sent  to  seek  his  master ! 
Sure,  Luciana,  it  is  two  o'clock. 

Luc.  Perhaps  some  merchant  hath  invited  him. 
And  from  the  mart  he's  somewhere  gone  to  dinner. 
Good  sister,  let  us  dine,  and  never  fret  : 
A  man  is  master  of  his  liberty  : 
Time  is  their  master  ;  and  when  they  see  time. 
They'll  go  or  come  :  if  so,  be  patient,  sister. 

Adr.  Why  should  their  liberty  than  ours  be  more? 

Luc.  Because  their  business  still  lies  out  o'  door. 

Adr.  Look,  when  I  serve  him  so,  he  takes  it  ill. 

Luc.  O,  know  he  is  the  bridle  of  your  will. 

Adr.  There's  none  but  asses  will  be  bridled  so. 
f     L^uc.  Why,  headstrong  liberty  is  lash'd  with  woe. 
There's  nothing  situate  under  heaven's  eye 
But  hath  his  bound,  in  earth,  in  sea,  in  sky  : 
\  The  beasts,  the  fishes,  and  the  winged  fowls, 

I.  388.  [C.O.E    XO 


Act  1 1.1  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERKOKS.  {Scene  I. 

Are  their  males'  subjects  and  at  their  controls  : 
Men,  more  divine,  the  masters  of  all  these. 
Lords  of  the  wide  world  and  wild  watery  seas, 
Indu'd  with  intellectual  sense  and  souls. 
Of  more  pre-eminence  than  fish  and  fowls, 
Are  masters  to  their  females  and  their  lords  : 
Then  let  your  will  attend  on  their  accords. 

Adr.  This  servitude  makes  you  to  keep  unwed. 

Luc.  Not  this,  but  troubles  of  the  marriage-bed. 

Adr.  But,  were  you    wedded,  you  would    bear   some 
sway. 

Luc.  Ere  I  learn  love,  I'll  practice  to  obey. 

Adr.  How  if  your  husband  start  some  otherwhere? 

Luc.  Till  he  come  home  again,  I  would  forbear. 
r    Adr.  Patience  unmov'd,  no  marvel  though  she  pause  ; 
They  can  be  meek  that  have  no  other  cause. 
A  wretched  soul,  bruis'd  with  adversity. 
We  bid  be  quiet  when  we  hear  it  cry  ; 
But  were  we  burden'd  with  like  weight  of  pain, 
As  much,  or  more,  we  should  ourselves  complain  : 
So  thou,  that  hast  no  unkind  mate  to  grieve  thee, 
J  With  urging  helpless  patience  wouldst  relieve  me  ; 
\  But,  if  thou  live  to  see  like  right  bereft, 

This  fool-begg'd  patience  in  thee  will  be  left. 
t      Liic.  Well,  I  will  marry  one  day,  but  to  try. — 
Here  comes  your  man  ;  now  is  your  husband  nigh. 

Enter  Dromio   of  Ephesus. 

Adr.  .Say,  is  your  tardy  master  now  at  hand  ? 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  he's  at  two  hands  with  me,  and  that  my 
two  ears  can  witness. 

Adr.  Say,  didst  thou  speak  with  him  ?  know'st  thou 
his  mind  } 

Dro.  E.  Ay,  ay,  he  told  his  mind  upon  mine  ear  : 
Beshrew  his  hand,  I  scarce  could  understand  it. 

Luc.  Spake  he  so  doubtfully,  thou  couldst  not  feel  his 
meaning  ? 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  he  struck  so  plainly,  I  could  too  well  feel 
his  blows  ;  and  w'ithal  so  doubtfully,  that  I  could  scarce 
understand  them. 

Adr.  But  say,  I  prithee,  is  he  coming  home  ? 
It  seems  he  hath  great  care  to  please  his  wife. 

C.Q.K.   II.]  I.     389. 


Act  //.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  I. 

Dro.  E.  Why,  mistress,  sure  my  master  is  horn-mad. 

Adr.  Horn-mad,  thou  villain  ! 

Dro.  E.  I  mean  not  cuckold-mad ; 

But,  sure,  he  is  stark  mad. 
When  I  desir'd  him  to  come  home  to  dinner, 
He  asked  me  for  a  thousand  marks  in  gold  : 
"  'Tis  dinner-time,"  quoth  I  ;  "  My  gold,"  quoth  he  : 
"  Your  meat  doth  burn,"  quoth  I  :  "  My  gold,"  quoth  he  : 
"  V/ill  you  come  home  ?  "  quoth  I  :  "  My  gold,"  quoth  he; 
"  Where  is  the  thousand  marks  I  gave  thee,  A'illain?  " 
"  The  pig,"  quoth  I,  "  is  burn'd  ;  "  "  My  gold,"  quoth  he  : 
"  My  mistress,  sir,"  quoth  I  ;  "  Hang  up  thy  mistress  f 
I  know  not  thy  mistress  ;  out  on  thy  mistress  !  " 

Luc.  Quoth  who  ? 

Dro.  E.  Quoth  my  master  : 
"  I  know,"  quoth  he,  "no  house,  no  wife,  no  mistress." 
So  that  my  errand,  due  unto  my  tongue, 
I  thank  him,  I  bear  home  upon  my  shoulders ; 
For,  in  conclusion,  he  did  beat  me  there. 

Adr.  Go  back  again,  thou  slave,  and  fetch  him  home. 

Dro.  E.  Go  back  again,  and  be  new  beaten  home ! 
For  God's  sake,  send  some  other  messenger. 

Adr.  Back,  slave,  or  1  will  break  thv  pate  across. 

Dro.  E.  And  he  will  bless  that  cross  with  other  beat- 
ing: 
Between  you  I  shall  have  a  holy  head. 

Adr.  Hence,  prating  peasant  I  fetch  thy  master  home. 

Dro.  E.  Am  I  so  round  with  you  as  you  with  me, 
That  like  a  football  you  do  spurn  me  thus  } 
You  spurn  me  hence,  and  he  will  spurn  me  hither: 
If  I  last  in  this  service,  you  must  case  me  in  leather.  [Exit. 

Luc.  Fie,  how  impatience  low'reth  in  your  face  ! 

Adr,  His  company  must  do  his  minions  grace, 
Whilst  I  at  home  starve  for  a  merry  look. 
Hath  homely  age  th'  alluring  beauty  took 
From  my  poor  cheek  ?  then  he  hath  wasted  it : 
Are  my  discourses  dull  }  barren  my  wit  .'' 
If  voluble  and  sharp  discourse  be  marr'd, 
Unkindness  blunts  it  more  than  marble  hard  : 
Do  their  gay  vestments  his  affections  bait  ? 
That's  not  my  fault, —  he's  master  of  my  state  : 
What  ruins  are  in  me  that  can  be  found 

I.  390.  (co.*.  i» 


Aci //.]  THE  COyiEDV  OF  ERRORS.  [Seine  I. 

By  him  not  ruin'd  ?  then  is  he  the  ground 
Of  my  defeatures.      My  decaj-ed  fair 
A  sunny  look  of  his  would  soon  repair  : 
But,  too  unruly  deer,  he  breaks  the  pale 
And  feeds  from  home ;    poor  I  am  but  his  stale. 

Luc.  Self-harming  jealousy  !  fie,  beat  it  hence! 

Adr.  Unfeeling  fools  can  with  such  wrongs  dispense. 
I  know  his  eye  doth  homage  otherwhere  ; 
Or  else  what  lets  it  but  he  would  be  here  } 
Sister,  you  know  he  promis'd  me  a  chain  ; 
Would  that  alone,  alone  he  would  detain. 
So  he  would  keep  fair  quarter  with  his  bed  ! 
I  see  the  jewel  best  enameled 
Will  lose  his  beauty  ;  yet  the  gold  bides  still, 
That  others  touch,  and  often  touching  will 
Wear  gold  ;  and  no  man  that  hath  a  name. 
By  falsehood  and  corruption  doth  it  shame. 
Since  that  my  beauty  cannot  please  his  eye, 
I'll  weep  what's  left  away,  and  weeping  die. 

Luc.  How  many  fond  fools  serve  mad  jealousy!. 

[Exeunt. 
Scene  II.    A  public  place. 
Enter  Antipholus  of  Syracuse. 

Ant.  S.     The  gold  I  gave  to  Dromio  is  laid  up 
Safe  at  the  Centaur  ;  and  the  heedful  slave 
Is  wander'd  forth,  in  care  to  seek  me  out 
By  computation  and  mine  host's  report. 
I  could  not  speak  with  Dromio  since  at  first 
I  sent  him  from  the  mart.     See,  here  he  comes. 

Enter  Dromio  of  Syracuse. 
How  now,  sir  !  is  your  merry  humor  alter'd .'' 
As  you  love  strokes,  so  jest  with  me  again. 
You  know  no  Centaur.'  vou  received  no  gold  ? 
Your  mistress  sent  to  have  me  home  to  dinner.'^ 
My  house  was  at  the  Phoenix.'*  Wast  tliou  mad. 
That  thus  so  marlly  thou  didst  answer  me.' 

Dro.  S.  What  answer,  sir  }  wiien  spake  I  such  a  word  } 

Ant.  S.  Even  now,  even  here,  not  half  an  hour  since. 

Dro.  S,  I  did  not  see  you  since  you  sent  me  hence, 
Home  to  the  Centaur,  with  the  gold  you  gave  me. 

Ant.  S.  Villain,  thou  didst  deny  the  gold's  receipt 

C.  O.  H.  13.]  I.    30,, 


Act  11.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  iSctntU. 

And  told'st  me  of  a  mistress  and  a  dinner; 
For  wiiich,  I  iiope,  thou  felt'st  I  was  displeas'd. 

Dro.  S.  I'm  glad  to  see  you  in  this  merry  vein: 
What  means  this  jest?  I  pray  you,  master,  tell  me. 

Ant.  S.  Yea,  dost  thou  jeer  and  flout  me  in  the  teeth  ? 
Think'st  thou  I  jest?     Hold,  take  thou  that,  and  that. 

[Beating  htm. 

Dro.  S.  Hold,  sir,  for   God's  sake  !   now  your  jest  is 
earnest : 
Upon  what  bargain  do  you  give  it  me  ? 

Ant.  S.   Because  that  I  familiarly  sometimes 
Do  use  you  for  my  fool,  and  chat  with  you. 
Your  sauciness  will  jet  upon  my  love. 
And  make  a  common  of  my  serious  hours. 
When  the  sun  shines  let  foolish  gnats  make  sport, 
But  creep  in  crannies  when  he  hides  his  beams. 
If  you  will  jest  with  me,  know  my  aspect. 
And  fashion  your  demeanor  to  my  looks. 
Or  I  will  beat  this  method  in  your  sconce. 

Dro.  S.  Sconce  call  you  it?  so  you  would  leave 
battering,  I  had  rather  have  it  a  head  :  an  you  use  these 
blows  long,  I  must  get  a  sconce  for  my  head,  and  en- 
sconce it  too ;  or  else  I  shall  seek  my  wit  in  my  shoul- 
ders.    But,  I  pray,  sir,  why  am  I  beaten  ? 

Ant.  S.  Dost  thou  not  know  ? 

Dro.  S.  Nothing,  sir,  but  that  I  am  beaten. 

Ant.  S.  Shall  I  tell  you  why  ? 

Dro.  S.  Ay,  sir,  and  wherefore  ;  for  they  say  every  why 
hath  a  wherefore. 

Ant.  S.  Why,  first, —  for  flouting  me  ;  and  then,  where- 
fore,— 
For  urging  it  the  second  time  to  me. 

Dro.  S.  Was  there   ever  any  man   thus  beaten  out   of 
season, 
When  in  the  why  and  the  wherefore  is  neither  rhyme  nor 

reason  ? 
Well,  sir,  I  thank  you. 

Ant.  S.  Thank  me,  sir  I  for  what  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marrv,  sir,  for  this  something  that  you  gave  me 
for  nothing. 

I.  302.  [C.O.E.  14. 


Act II. '\  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene//. 

Ant.  S.  I'll  make  you  amends  next,  to  give  you  nothing 
for  something.     But  say,  sir,  is  it  dinner-time  ? 

Dro.  S.  No,  sir:  I  thinlv  the  meat  wants  that  I  have. 

Ant.  S.  In  good  time,  sir  ;  what's  that  ? 

Dro.  S.  Basting. 

Ant.  S.  Well,  sir,  then  'twill  be  dry. 

Dro.  S.  If  it  be,  sir,  I  pray  you,  eat  none  of  it. 

Ant.  S.  Your  reason  ? 

Dro.  S.  Lest  it  make  you  choleric,  and  purchase  me 
another  dry  basting. 

Ant.  S.  Well,  sir,  learn  to  jest  in  good  time  :  there's  a 
time  for  all  things. 

Dro.  S.  I  durst  have  denied  that,  before  you  were  so 
choleric. 

Ant.  S.  By  what  rule,  sir.'' 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  by  a  rule  as  plain  as  the  plain  bald 
f)ate  of  father  Time  himself. 

Ant.  S.  Let's  hear  it. 

Dro.  S.  There's  no  time  for  a  man  to  recover  his  hair 
that  grows  bald  by  nature. 

Ant.  S.  May  he  not  do  it  by  fine  and  recovery  ? 

Dro.  S.  Yes,  to  pay  a  fine  for  a  periwig,  and  recover  the 
lost  hair  of  another  man. 

Ant.  S.  Why  is  Time  such  a  niggard  of  hair,  being,  as 
it  is,  so  plentiful  an  excrement  ? 

Dro.  S.  Because  it  is  a  blessing  that  he  bestows  on 
beasts  :  and  what  he  hath  scanted  men  in  hair,  he  haih 
given  them  in  wit. 

Ant.  S.  Why,  but  there's  many  a  man  hath  more  liair 
than  wit. 

Dro.  S.  Not  a  man  of  those  but  he  hath  the  \\  it  to 
lose  his  hair. 

Ant.  .S.  Why,  thou  didst  cosclude  hairy  men  plain 
dealers  without  wit. 

Dro.  S.  The  plainer  dealer,  the  sooner  lost  :  yet  he 
loseth  it  in  a  kind  of  jollity. 

Ant.  S.  For  what  reason  .'' 

Dro.  S.  For  two ;  and  sound  ones  too. 

Ant.  S.  Nay,  not  sound,  I  pray  you. 

Dro.  S.  Sure  ones,  then. 

Ant.  S.  Nay,  not  sure,  in  a  thing  falsing. 

Dro.  S.  Csrtain  ones,  then. 

C.O.E.  15.]  I.  393. 


Act  //.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  '\_Scene  It. 

Ant.  S.  Name  them. 

Dro.  S.  The  one,  to  save  the  money  that  he  spends  in 
trimming ;  the  other,  that  at  dinner  they  should  not  drop 
in  his  porridge. 

Ant.  S.  You  would  all  this  time  have  proved  there  is 
no  time  for  all  things. 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  and  did,  sir  ;  namely,  no  time  to  recov- 
er  hair  lost  by  nature. 

Ant.  S.  But  your  reason  was  not  substantial,  why 
there  is  no  time  to  recover. 

Dro.  S.  Thus  I  mend  it  :  Time  himself  is  bald,  and 
therefore  to  the  world's  end  will  have  bald  followers. 

A7tt.  S.  I  knew  'twould  be  a  bald  conclusion  : 
But,  soft !  who  wafts  us  yonder  ? 

Enter  Adriana  and  LuciANA. 

Adr.  Ay,  ay,  Antipholus,  look  strange  and  frown  : 
Some  other  mistress  hath  thy  sweet  aspects  ; 
^\  am  not  Adriana  nor  thy  wife.  ' 
iT'The  time  was  once  when  thou  unurg'd  wouldst  vow 
That  never  words  were  music  to  thine  ear. 
That  never  object  pleasing  in  thine  eye. 
That  never  touch  well-welcome  to  thy  hand. 
That  never  meat  sweet-savor'd  in  thy  taste. 
Unless  I  spake,  or  look'd,  or  touch'd,  or  carv'd  to  thee. 
How  comes  it  now,  my  husband,  O,  how  comes  it, 
That  thou  art  thus  estranged  from  thyself .'' 
Thyself  I  call  it,  being  strange  to  me. 
That,  undividable,  incorporate, 
Am  better  than  thy  dear  self's  better  part. 
Ah,  do  not  tear  away  thyself  from  me ! 
*Tor  know,  m.y  love,  as  easy  mayst  thou  fall 
A  drop  of  water  in  the  breaking  gulf. 
And  take  unmingled  thence  that  drop  again. 
Without  addition  or  diminishing, 
As  take  from  me  thyself,  and  not  me  too. 
'  How  dearly  would  it  touch  thee  to  the  quick, 
Shouldst  thou  but  hear  I  were  licentious. 
And  that  this  body,  consecrate  to  thee. 
By  ruffian  lust  should  be  contaminate  ! 
Wouldst  thou  not  spit  at  me  and  spurn  at  me, 
And  hurl  the  name  of  husband  in  my  face. 
And  tear  the  stain'd  skin  off  my  harlot-brow, 

1.  394-  [c  O.B    16, 


A  a//.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.       •  [Scene /I, 

And  from  my  false  hand  cut  the  wedding-ring, 

And  break  it  with  a  deep-divorcing  vow  ? 

I  know  thou  canst ;  and  therefore  see  thou  do  it. 

I  am  possess'd  with  an  adulterate  blot  ; 

My  blood  is  mingled  with  the  grime  of  lust  : 

For  if  we  two  be  one,  and  thou  play  false, 

I  do  digest  the  poison  of  thy  flesh. 

Being  strumpeted  by  thy  contagion. 

Keep,  then,  fair  league  and  truce  with  thy  true  bed  ; 

I  live  unstain'd,  thou  undishonored. 

Anf.  S.  Plead  you  to  me,  fair  dame  ?  I  know  you  not ; 
In  Ephesus  I  am  but  two  hours  old, 
As  strange  unto  your  town  as  to  your  talk; 
Who,  every  word  by  all  my  wit  being  scann'd, 
Want  wit  in  all  one  word  to  understand. 

Luc.  Fie,  brother  !  how  the  world  is  chang'd  with  you  ! 
When  were  you  wont  to  use  my  sister  thus  .•' 
She  sent  for  you  by  Dromio  home  to  dinner. 

Afi/.  S.  By  Dromio  ! 

Dro.  S.  By  me  ! 

Aiir.  By  thee  ;  and  this  thou  didst  return  from  him,— 
That  he  did  buffet  thee,  and,  in  his  blows. 
Denied  my  house  for  his,  me  for  his  wife. 

An/.  S.  Did  you  converse,  sir,  with  this  gentlewoman.-* 
What  is  the  course  and  drift  of  your  compact  ? 

Dro.  S.  I,  sir  !  I  never  saw  her  till  this  time. 

Anf.  S.  Villain,  thou  liest ;  for  even  her  very  words 
Didst  thou  deliver  to  me  on  the  mart. 

Dro.  S.  I  never  spake  with  her  in  all  my  life. 

An/.  S.   How  can  she  thus,  then,  call  us  by  our  names, 
Unless  it  be  by  inspiration  ? 

Adr.  How  ill  agrees  it  with  your  gravity 
To  counterfeit  thus  grossly  with  your  slave, 
Abetting  him  to  thwart  me  in  my  mood  ! 
Be  it  my  wrong  you  are  from  me  exempt, 
But  wrong  not  that  wrong  with  a  more  contempt. 
Come,  I  will  fasten  on  this  sleeve  of  thine  :     . 
Thou  art  an  elm,  my  husband, —  I  a  vine,       ^~'^.-    >^ 
Whose  weakness,  married  to  thy  stronger  state, 
Makes  me  with  thy  strength  to  communicate: 
If  aught  possess  thee  from  me,  it  is  dross. 
Usurping  ivy,  brier,  or  idle  moss ; 

C.O.B.  17.]  I.  395. 


Acf //.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  11. 

Who,  all  for  want  of  pruning,  with  intrusion 
Infect  thy  sap,  and  Hve  on  thy  confusion. 

Ant.  S.  \aside\  To  me  she  speaks ;  she   moves  me  for 
her  theme  : 
What,  was  I  married  to  her  in  my  dream  ? 
Or  sleep  I  now,  and  think  I  hear  all  this  ? 
What  error  drives  our  eyes  and  ears  amiss  ? 
Until  I  know  this  sure  uncertainty, 
I'll  entertain  the  offer'd  fallacy. 

Luc.  Dromio,  go  bid  the  servants  spread  for  dinner. 

Dro.  S.  O,  for  my  beads  !  I  cross  me  for  a  sinner. 
This  is  the  fairy  land  ;  —  O  spite  of  spites  I  — 
We  talk  with  none  but  goblins,  owls,  and  sprites  : 
If  we  obey  them  not,  this  will  ensue, — 
They'll  suck  our  breath,  or  pinch  us  black  and  blue. 

Ljic.  Why  prat'st  thou  to  thyself,  and  answer'st  not  } 
Dromio,  thou  drone,  thou  snail,  thou  slug,  thou  sot  ! 

Dro.  S.  I  am  transformed,  master,  am  not  I  ? 

Ant.  S.  I  think  thou  art  in  mind,  and  so  am  I. 

Dro.  S.  Nay,  master,  both  in  mind  and  in  my  shape. 

Ant.  .S'.  Thou  hast  thine  own  form. 

Dro.  S.  No,  I  am  an  ape. 

Zz/r.  If  thou  art  chang'd  to  aught,  'tis  to  an  ass. 

Dro.  S.  'Tis  true :  she  rides  me,  and  I  long  for  grass. 
'Tis  so,  I  am  an  ass ;  else  it  could  never  be 
But  I  should  know  her  as  well  as  she  knows  me. 

Adr.  Come,  come,  no  longer  will  I  be  a  fool, 
To  put  the  finger  in  the  eye  and  weep, 
Whilst  man  and  master  laugh  my  woes  to  scorn. — 
Come,  sir,  to  dinner. —  Dromio,  keep  the  gate. — 
Husband,  I'll  dine  above  with  you  to-day. 
And  shrive  you  of  a  thousand  idle  pranks. — 
Sirrah,  if  any  ask  you  for  your  master, 
Sav  he  dines  forth,  and  let  no  creature  enter. — 
Come,  sister. —  Dromio,  play  the  porter  well. 

Ant.  S.  [as/de]  Am  I  in  earth,  in  heaven,  or  in  hell  ? 
Sleeping  or  waking  ?  mad  or  well-advis'd  ? 
Known  unto  these,  and  to  myself  disguis'd  ! 
I'll  say  as  they  say,  and  persever  so. 
And  in  this  mist  at  all  adventures  go. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  shall  I  be  porter  at  the  gate  ? 

1.396.  [c.o.E.18. 


Act  III.']  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  J. 

Adr.  Ay ; 
And  let  none  enter,  lest  I  break  your  pate. 
Lice.  Come,  come.  Antipholus,  we  dine  too  late, 

\^Exetint, 

ACT  III. 

Scene  I.  Before  the  house  of  h^i:\'?ViO'L\]%o{  Ephesus, 

Enter  Antipholus  of  Ephesus,    Dromio  of  Ephesus, 
Angelo,  and  Balthazar. 

Ant.  E.  Good  Signior  Angelo,  you  must  excuse  us  all  ; 
My  wife  is  shrewish  when  I  keep  not  hours  ; 
Say  that  I  linger'd  with  you  at  your  shop 
To  see  the  making  of  her  carcanet, 
And  that  to-morrow  you  will  bring  it  home. 
But  here's  a  villain  that  would  face  me  down 
He  met  me  on  the  mart,  and  that  I  beat  him, 
And  charg'd  him  with  a  thousand  marks  in  gold, 
And  that  I  did  deny  my  wife  and  house. — 
Thou  drunkard,  thou,  what  didst  thou  mean  by  this? 

Dro.  E.  Say  what  you  will,  sir,  but  I  know  what  I  know  ; 
That  you  beat  me  at  the  mart,  I  have  your  hand  to  show  : 
If  the  skin  were  parchment,  and  the  blows  you  gave  were 

ink, 
Your  own  handwriting  would  tell  you  what  I  think. 

Ant.  E.  I  think  thou  art  an  ass. 

Dro.  E.  Marry,  so  it  doth  appear 

By  the  wrongs  I  suffer  and  the  blows  I  bear. 
I  should  kick,  being  kick'd;  and,  being  at  that  pass, 
You  would  keep  from  my  heels,  and  beware  of  an  ass. 

Aitt.  E.  You  are  sad,  Signior  Balthazar  :  pray  God  our 
cheer 
May  answer  my  good  will  and   your  good  welcome  here  I 

Bnl.  I  hold  your  dainties  cheap,  sir.  and  your  welcome 
dear. 

Ant.  E.  O,  Signior  Balthazar,  either  at  flesh  or  fish, 
A  table  full  of  welcome  makes  scarce  one  dainty  dish. 

Bal.  Good  meat,  sir,  is  common  ;  that  everv  churl  affords. 

Ant.  E.  And  welcome  more  common  ;  for  that's  nothing 
but  words. 

Bal.  Small  cheer  and  great  welcome  makes  a  merry  ' 
feast. 

C.O.E.  19.]  I.  397. 


Act  III.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  EKKORS.  [Scene/. 

Anf.  E.  Ay,  to  a  niggardly  host  and  more  sparing  guest : 
But  though  my  cates  be  mean,  take  them  in  gucjd  ])art  ; 
Better  cheer  may  you  have,  but  not  with  better  heart. 
But,  soft  !  my  door  is  lock'd. —  Go  bid  them  lei  us  in. 
Dro.  E.  Maud,  Bridget,  Marian,  Cicily,  Gillian,  Jin  I 
Dro.  S.  \tuit/iin\  Mome,   malt-horse,  capon,  coxcomb, 
idiot,  patch  I 
Either  get  thee  from  the  door,  or  sit  down  at  the  hatch. 
Dost  thou  conjure  for  wenches,  that  thou  Ccdl'st  for  such 

store. 
When  one  is  nae  too  many  .'  Go  get  thee  from  the  door. 
Dro.  E.  What  patch  is  made  our  porter  .^  —  My  master 

stays  in  the  street. 
Dro.  S.  \within\   Let  him  walk  from  whence  he  came, 

lest  he  catch  cold  on's  feet. 
Ant.  E.  Who  talks  within  there  ?  ho,  open  the  door  I 
Dro.  S.  [w2//u'h]  Right,  sir;  Til  tell  you  when,  an  you'll 

tell  me  wherefore. 
Afif.  E.  Wherefore !  for  my  dinner :  I  have  not  din'd 

to-day. 
Dro.  S.  {withiri]  Nor  to-day  here  you  must  not  ;  come 

again  when  you  may. 
Ant.  E.  What  art  thou  that  keep'st  me  out  from   the 

house  I  owe  } 
Dro.  S.  [wit/itn]  The  porter  for  this  time,  sir,  and  my 

name  is  Dromio. 
Dro.  E.  O  villain,  thou  hast  stol'n  both  mine  office  and 
my  name  I 
The  one  ne'er  got  me  credit,  the  other  mickle  blame. 
If  thou  hadst  been  Dromio  to-day  in  my  place. 
Thou  wouldst  have  chang'd  thy  face  for  a  name,  or  thy 
name  for  an  ass. 
Luce,  {wt'tkin]  What  a  coil  is  there  I  Dromio,  who  are 

those  at  the  gate  ? 
Dro.  E.  Let  my  master  in.  Luce. 

Luce.  \within\  Faith  no  ;  he  comes  too  late  ; 

And  so  tell  your  master. 

Dro.  E.    '  O  Lord,  I  inust  laugh  I  — 

Have  at  you  with  a  proverb  ;  —  Shall  I  set  in  my  staff  ? 
Luce.  [7a/t/u'n]    Have  at  you  with  another;    that's, — 
When  ?  can  you  tell  ? 

I.  398.  [c.o.K.  ao. 


ActlJI.]  TBE  COMEDV  OF  ERRORS.  Scene  I. 

Dro.  S.  \wtthtn'\  If  thy  name  be  call'd  Luce, —  Luc3j 

thou  hast  anbwer'd  him  well. 
Ant.  E.  Do  you  hear,  you  minion  ?  you'll  let  us  m,  1 

hope  ? 
Luce.  \withm'\   I  thought  to  have  ask'cl  you. 
Dro.  S.  \wtthiii\  And  you  said  no. 

Dro.  E.  So,  come,  help  :  —  well  struck  !  there  was  blow 

for  blow. 
Ant.  E.  Thou  baggage,  let  me  in. 

Luce,  [wit  hi  ft]  Can  you  tell  for  whose  sake  ? 

Dro.  E.  Master,  knock  the  door  hard. 
Luce,  [wtthm.]  Let  him  knock  till  it  ache. 

Ant.  E.  You'll  cry  for  this,  minion,  if  I  beat  the  door 

down. 
Luce.  \withtn\  What  needs  all  that,  and  a  pair  of  stocks 

in  the  town .'' 
Adr.  [withm]  Who  is  that  at  the  dooi  that  keeps  all  this 

noise  } 
Dro.  S.  [  within]  By  my  troth,  your  town  is  troubled 

with  unruly  boys. 
Ant.  E.  Are    you  there,  wife .''    you  might  have  come 

before. 
Adr.  [loithin]  Your  wife,  sir  knave  .''  go  get  you  from  the 

door. 
Dro.  E.  If  you  went  in  pain,  master,  this  knave  would 

go  sore. 
Ang.  Here  is  neither  cheer,  sir,  nor  welcome :  we  would 

fain  have  either. 
Bal.  In  debating  which  was   best,  we   shall   part  with 

neither. 
Dro.  E.  They  stand  at  the  door,  master  ;  bid  them  wel- 
come hither. 
Afit.E.  There  is  something-  in  the  wind,  that  we  cannot 

get  in. 
Dro,  E.  You  would  say  so,  master,  if  your  garments  w  ere 
thin. 
Your  cake  is  warm  within  ;  you  stand  here  in  the  cold  : 
It  would  make  a  man  mad  as  a  buck,  to  be  so  bought  and 
sold. 
Ant.  E.  Go  fetch  me  something  :  I  '11  break  ope  the  gate. 
Dro.  S.  [within]   Break  any    breaking  here,   and  I'll 
break  your  knave's  pate, 

C.O.B.  ai.]  I- 399- 


1} 


Act  ///.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  I. 

Dro.  E.  A  man  may  break  a  word  with  you,  sir  ;    and 
words  are  but  wind  ; 
Ay,  and  break  it  in  your  face,  so  he  break  it  not  behind. 

Dro.  S.  \within\   It  seems  thou  want'st  breaking  :  out 
upon  thee,  hind  ! 

Dro.  E.  Here's  too  much  "  out  upon  thee  I  "  I  pray  thee, 
let  me  in. 

Dro,  S.  \withi}t\  Ay,  when  fowls  have  no  feathers,  and 
fish  have  no  fin. 

Ant.  E.  Well,  I'll  break  in  :  —  go  borrow  me  a  crow. 

Dro.  E.  A  crow  without  feather, —  master,  mean  you  so  ? 
For  a  fish  without  a  fin,  there's  a  fowl  without  a  feather : 
If  a  crow  help  us  in,  sirrah,   we'll  pluck  a  crow  together. 

Ant.  E.  Go  get  thee  gone ;  fetch  me  an  iron  crow. 

Bal.  Have  patience,  sir  ;  O,  let  it  not  be  so  ! 
Herein  you  war  against  your  reputation, 
And  draw  within  the  compass  of  suspect 
Th'  unviolated  honor  of  your  wife. 
Once  this, —  your  long  experience  of  her  wisdom. 
Her  sober  virtue,  years,  and  modesty, 
Plead  on  her  part  some  cause  to  you  unknown  ; 
And  doubt  not,  sir,  but  she  will  well  excuse 
Why  at  this  time  the  doors  are  made  against  you. 
Be  rul'd  by  me:  depart  in  patience. 
And  let  us  to  the  Tiger  all  to  dinner  ; 
And  about  evening  come  yourself  alone 
To  know  the  reason  of  this  strange  restraint. 
If  by  strong  hand  you  offer  to  break  in 
Now  in  the  stirring  passage  of  the  day, 
A  vulgar  comment  will  be  made  of  it. 
And  that  supposed  by  the  common  rout 
Against  your  yet  ungalled  estimation, 
That  may  with  foul  intrusion  enter  in. 
And  dwell  upon  your  grave  when  you  are  dead  ; 
For  slander  lives  upon  succession, 
For  ever  housed  where  it  gets  possession. 

Ant.  E.  You  have  prevail'd  :  I  will  depart  in  quiet, 
And,  in  despite  of  mirth,  mean  to  be  merr)'. 
I  know  a  wench  of  excellent  discourse. 
Pretty  and  witty ;  wild,  and  yet,  too,  gentle  : 
There  will  we  dine.     This  woman  that  I  mean. 
My  wife  —  but,  I  protest,  without  desert  — 

I.  4C«.  [C.O.E.  S3. 


Act  III.']  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  I. 

Hath  oftentimes  upbraided  me  withal  : 

To  her  will  we  to  dinner. —  Get  you  home, 

And  fetch  the  chain  ;  by  this  I  know  'tis  made: 

Bring  it,  I  pray  you,  to  the  Porpentine  ; 

For  there's  the  house  :  that  chain  will  I  bestow  — 

Be  it  for  nothing  but  to  spite  my  wife  — 

Upon  mine  hostess  there  :  good  sir,  make  haste. 

Since  mine  own  doors  refuse  to  entertain  me, 

I'll  knock  elsewhere,  to  see  if  they'll  disdain  me. 

Ang.  I'll  meet  you  at  tliat  place  some  hour  hence. 

Ant.  E.  Do  so.     This  jest  shall  cost  me  some  expense. 

YExeunt. 
Enter,  from  the  house,    Luciana  <?«</ Antipholus  of 

Syracuse. 
Luc.  And  may  it  be  that  you  have  quite  forgot 

A  husband's  office.'  shall,  Antipholus, 
Even  in  the  spring  of  love,  thy  love-springs  rot  ? 

Shall  love,  in  building,  grow  so  ruinous.'' 
If  you  did  wed  my  sister  for  her  wealth, 

Then  for  wealth's  sake  use  her  with  more  kindness; 
Or  if  you  like  elsewhere,  do  it  by  stealth  ; 

Muffle  your  false  love  with  some  show  of  blindness  ; 
Let  not  my  sister  read  it  in  your  eye  ; 

Be  not  thy  tongue  thy  own  shame  s  orator; 
Look  sweet,  speak  fair,  become  disloyalty  ; 

Apparel  vice  like  virtue's  harbinger  ; 
Bear  a  fair  presence,  though  your  heart  be  tainted  ; 

Teach  sin  the  carriage  of  a  holy  saint ; 
Be  secret-false  ;  what  need  she  be  acquainted  } 

What  simple  thief  brags  of  his  own  attaint } 
'Tis  double  wrong,  to  truant  with  your  bed, 

And  let  her  read  it  in  thy  looks  at  board  : 
Shame  hath  a  bastard  fame,  well  managed  ; 

111  deeds  are  doubled  with  an  evil  word. 
Alas,  poor  women  !  make  us  but  believe. 

Being  compact  of  credit,  that  you  love  us  ; 
Though  others  have  the  arm,  show  us  the  sleeve ; 

We  in  your  motion  turn,  and  you  may  move  us. 
Then  gentle  brother,  get  you  in  again  ; 

Comfort  my  sister,  cheer  her,  call  her  wife : 
'Tis  holy  sport,  to  be  a  little  vain, 

When  the  sweet  breath  of  flattery  conquers  strife. 

C.O.E.  23.]  I.  401. 


Act  rU.]  r//E  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  t. 

Ant.  S.  Sweet  mistress, —  what  your  name  is  else,  I  know 
not, 

Nor  by  what  wonder  you  do  hit  of  mine, — 
Less  in  your  knowledge  and  your  grace  you  show  not 

Than  our  earth's  wonder  ;  more  than  earth  divine. 
Teach  me,  dear  creature,  how  to  think  and  speak  ; 

Lay  open  to  my  earthly-gross  conceit, 
Smother'd  in  errors,  feeble,  shallow,  weak. 

The  folded  meaning  of  your  words'  deceit. 
Against  my  soul's  pure  truth  why  labor  you 

To  make  it  wander  in  an  unknown  field  ? 
Are  you  a  god  ?  would  you  create  me  new  ? 

Transform  me,  then,  and  to  your  power  I'll  yield. 
But  if  that  I  am  I,  then  well  I  know 

Your  weeping  sister  is  no  wife  of  mine, 
Nor  to  her  bed  no  homage  do  I  owe  : 

Far  more,  far  more  to  you  do  I  decline. 
O,  train  me  mf^t,  sweet  mermaid,  with  thy  note. 

To  drown  me  in  thy  sister's  flood  of  tears  : 
Sing,  siren,  for  thyself,  and  I  will  dote  : 

Spread  o'er  the  silver  waves  thy  golden  hairs, 
And  as  a  bed  I'll  take  them,  and  there  lie ; 

And,  in  that  glorious  supposition,  think 
He  gains  by  death  that  hath  such  means  to  die : 

Let  Love,  being  light,  be  drowned  if  she  sink  ! 

Luc.  What,  are  you  mad,  that  you  do  reason  so.^ 

Ant.  S.  Not  mad,  but  mated  ;  how,  I  do  not  know. 

Luc.  It  is  a  fault  that  springeth  from  your  eye. 

Ant.  S.  For  gazing  on  vour  beams,  fair  sun,  being  by. 

Luc.  Gaze  where  you  should,  and  that  will  clear  your 
sight. 

Ant.  S.  As  good  to  wink,  sweet  love,  as  look  on  night. 

Luc.  Why  call  you  me  love .''  call  my  sister  so. 

Ant.  S.  Thy  sister's  sister. 

Luc.  That's  my  sister. 

Ant.  S.  No ; 

It  is  thyself,  mine  own  self's  better  part. 
Mine  eye's  clear  eye,  my  dear  heart's  dearer  heart. 
My  food,  my  fortune,  and  my  sweet  hope's  aim. 
My  sole  earth's  heaven,  and  my  heaven's  claim. 

Luc.  All  this  my  sister  is,  or  else  should  be. 

I.  401.  [C.O.E.  24 


Act  rn.^  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \,S:enf  f. 

Ant.  S.  Call  thyself  sister,  sweet,  for  I  aim  thee. 
Thee  will  I  love,  and  with  thee  lead  my  life  : 
Thou  hast  no  husband  yet,  nor  I  no  wife. 
Give  me  thy  hand. 

Lite.  O,  soft,  sir  !  hold  you  still  : 

I'll  fetch  my  sister,  to  get  her  good-will.  \^Exit. 

Enter,  from  the  house,  Dromio  of  Syracuse  running. 

Ant.  S.  Why,  how  now,  Dromio !  where  runn'st  thou 
so  fast  ? 

Dro.  S.  Do  you  know  me,  sir  .'*  am  I  Dromio  ?  am  1 
your  man  .''  am  I  myself  ? 

Ant.  S.  Thou  art  Dromio,  thou  art  my  man,  thou  art 
thyself. 

Dro.  S.  I  am  an  ass,  I  am  a  woman's  man,  and  besides 
myself. 

Ant.  S.  What  woman's  man  .'  and  how  besides  thyself } 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  besides  myself,  I  am  due  to  a  woman  ; 
one  that  claims  me,  one  that  haunts  me,  one  that  will 
have  me. 

Ant.  S.  What  claim  lays  she  to  thee  .'' 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  such  claim  as  you  would  lay  to  your 
horse  ;  and  she  would  have  me  as  a  beast  :  not  that,  I  being 
a  beast,  she  would  have  me  ;  but  that  she,  being  a  very 
beastly  creature,  lays  claim  to  me. 

Ant.  S.  What  is'she.? 

Dro.  S.  A  very  reverend  body  ;  ay,  such  a  one  as  a 
man  may  not  speak  of,  without  he  say  "sir-reverence."  I 
have  but  lean  luck  in  the  match,  and  yet  she  is  a  wondrous 
fat  marriage. 

Ant.  S.  How  dost  thou  mean, —  a  fat  marriage  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  she's  the  kitchen-wench,  and  all 
grease ;  and  I  know  not  what  use  to  put  her  to,  but  to 
make  a  lamp  of  her,  and  run  from  her  by  her  own  light. 
I  warrant,  her  rags,  and  the  tallow  in  them,  will  burn  a 
Poland  winter :  if  she  Hves  till  doomsday,  she'll  burn  a 
week  longer  than  the  whole  world. 

Ant.  S.  What  complexion  is  she  of } 

Dro.  S.  Swart,  like  my  shoe,  but  her  face  nothing  like 
so  clean  kept :  for  why  she  sweats  ;  a  man  may  go  over 
shoes  in  the  grime  of  it. 

Ant.  S.  That's  a  fault  that  water  will  mend. 

CO.B.  as.l  i.  403' 


Art  in.']  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  I. 

Dro.  S.  No,  sir,  'tis  in  grain  ;  Noah's  flood  could  not 
do  it. 

Anf.  S.  What's  her  name  ? 

Dro.  S.  Nell,  sir  ;  but  her  name  and  three  quarters, 
that's  an  ell  and  three  quarters,  will  not  measure  her  from 
hip  to  hip. 

An/.  S.  Then  she  bears  some  breadth  ? 

Dro.  S.  No  longer  from  head  to  foot  than  from  hip  to 
hip  :  she  is  spherical,  like  a  globe ;  I  could  find  out  coun- 
tries in  her. 

An/.  S.  In  what  part  of  her  body  stands  Ireland  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  sir,  in  her  buttocks  :  I  found  it  out  by 
the  bogs. 

Ant.  S.  Where  Scotland  ? 

Dro.  S.  I  found  it  by  the  barrenness ;  hard  in  the  palm 
of  her  hand. 

Ant.  S.  Where  France  ? 

Dro.  S.  In  her  forehead  ;  armed  and  reverted,  making 
war  against  her  hair. 

Ant.  S.  Where  England  ? 

Dro.  S.  I  looked  for  the  chalky  cfiffs,  but  I  could  find 
no  whiteness  in  them  ;  but  I  guess  it  stood  in  her  chin, 
by  the  salt  rheum  that  ran  between  France  and  it. 

Ant.  S.  Where  Spain  ? 

Dro.  S.  Faith,  I  saw  it  not  ;  but  I  felt  it  hot  in  her  breath. 

Ant.  S.  Where  America,  the  Indies  .'' 

Dro.  S.  O,  sir,  upon  her  nose,  all  o'er  embellished  with 
rubies,  carbuncles,  sapphires,  declining  their  rich  aspect 
to  the  hot  breath  of  Spain  ;  who  sent  whole  armadoes  of 
caracks  to  be  ballast  at  her  nose. 

Ant.  S.  Where  stood  Belgia,  the  Netherlands  ? 

Dro.  S.  O,  sir,  I  did  not  look  so  low.  To  conclude, 
this  drudge,  or  diviner,  laid  claim  to  me  ;  called  me 
Dromio ;  swore  I  was  assured  to  her  ;  told  me  what  privy 
marks  I  had  about  me.  as,  the  mark  of  my  shoulder,  the 
mole  in  my  neck,  the  great  wart  on  my  left  arm,  that  I, 
amazed,  ran  from  her  as  a  witch  : 
And,  I  think,  if  my  breast   had  not  been  made  of  faith, 

and  my  heart  of  steel, 
She  had   transform'd  me  to  a  curtal  dog,  and  made  me 
turn  i'  the  wheel. 

I.  404.  [c.o.E.  «6. 


^ictll/.l  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  I. 

Ant.  S.  Go  hie  thee  presently  post  to  the  road  :— - 
And  if  the  wind  blow  any  way  from  shore, 
I  will  not  harbor  in  this  town  to-night :  — 
If  any  bark  put  forth,  come  to  the  mart, 
Where  I  will  walk  till  thou  return  to  me. 
If  every  one  knows  us,  and  we  know  none, 
'Tis  time,  I  think,  to  drudge,  pack,  and  be  gone. 

Dro.  S.  As  from  a  bear  a  man  would  run  for  life,       \    /^ 
So  fly  I  from  her  that  would  be  my  wife.  {Exiy.     7^ 

A7tt.  S.  There's  none  but  witches  do  inhabit  here ; 
And  therefore  'tis  high  time  that  I  were  hence. 
She  that  doth  call  me  husband,  even  my  soul 
Doth  for  a  wife  abhor.     But  her  fair  sister, 
Possess'd  with  such  a  gentle  sovereign  grace. 
Of  such  enchanting  presence  and  discourse. 
Hath  almost  made  me  traitor  to  myself  : 
But,  lest  myself  be  guilty  to  self-wrong, 
I'll  stop  mine  ears  against  the  mermaid's  song. 

Re-enter  Angelo  with  the  chain. 

Ang.  Master  Antipholus, — 

Ant.  S.  Ay,  that's  my  name. 

Ang.  I  know  it  well,  sir  :  —  lo,  here  is  the  chain. 
I  thought  to  have  ta'en  you  at  the  Porpentine : 
The  chain  unfinish'd  made  me  stay  thus  long. 

Ant.  S.  What  is  your  will  that  I  shall  do  with  this  ? 

Ang.  What  please  yourself,  sir  :  I  have  made  it  for  you. 

Ant.  S.  Made  it  for  me,  sir !  I  bespoke  it  not. 

Ang,  Not  once,  nor  twice,  but  twenty  times  you  have. 
Go  home  with  it,  and  please  your  wife  withal ; 
And  soon  at  supper-time  I'll  visit  you. 
And  then  receive  my  money  for  the  chain. 

Attt.  S.   I  pray,  you,  sir,  receive  the  money  now, 
For  fear  you  ne'er  see  chain  nor  money  more. 

A?ig.  You  are  a  merry  man,  sir  :  fare  you  well.   [Exit. 

Ant.  .S'.  What  I  should  think  of  this,  I  caimot  tell  : 
But  this  I  think,  there's  no  man  is  so  vain 
That  would  refuse  so  fair  an  offer'd  chain. 
I  see  a  man  here  needs  not  live  by  shifts. 
When  in  the  streets  he  meets  such  golden  gifts. 
I'll  to  the  mart,  and  there  for  Droniio  stay  : 
If  any  ship  put  out,  then  straight  away.  [Exit. 

S.O.B.  27.]  1.  405. 


Acijr.l  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  I. 

ACT    IV. 

Scene  I.    A  public  place. 

Enter  Second  Merchant,  Angelo,  and  an  Officer. 

Sec.  Mer.    You  know  since  Pentecost  the  sum  is  due, 
And  since  I  have  not  much  importun'd  you; 
Nor  now  I  had  not,  but  that  I  am  bound 
To  Persia,  and  want  guilders  for  my  voyage  : 
Therefore  make  present  satisfaction. 
Or  I'll  attach  you  by  this  officer. 

Atig.    Even  just  the  sum  that  I  do  owe  to  you 
Is  growing  to  me  by  Antipholus  ; 
And  in  the  instant  that  I  met  with  you 
He  had  of  me  a  chain  :  at  five  o'clock 
I  shall  receive  the  money  for  the  same. 
Pleaseth  you  walk  with  me  down  to  his  house, 
I  will  discharge  my  bond,  and  thank  you  too. 

Off.  That  labor  may  you  save  :  see  where  he  comes. 

Enter  ANTIPHOLUS  of  Ephcsus  and  Dromio  of  Ephesus. 

Ant.  E.  While  I  go  to  the  goldsmith's  house,  go  thou 
And  buy  a  rope's-end  :  that  will  I  bestow 
Among  my  wife  and  her  confederates 
For  locking  me  out  of  my  doors  by  day. — 
But,  soft !  I  see  the  goldsmith. —  Get  thee  gone  ; 
Buy  thou  a  rope,  and  bring  it  home  to  me. 

Dro.  E.  I  buy  a  thousand  pound  a  year  !  I  buy  a  rope  ! 

{^Exit. 
f  I      1      ^,,^  Ant.  E.  A  man  is  well  holp  up  that  trusts  to  you  : 
* '  ■       You  promised  your  presence  and  the  chain  ; 

But  neither  chain  nor  goldsmith  came  to  me. 
Belike  you  thought  our  love  would  last  too  long. 
If  it  were  chain'd  together,  and  therefore  came  not. 

Aug.  Saving  your  merr)^  humor,  here's  the  note 
How  much  your  chain  weighs  to  the  utmost  carat. 
The  fineness  of  the  gold,  and  chargeful  fashion, 
Which  doth  amount  to  three  odd  ducats  more 
Than  I  stand  debted  to  this  gentleman  : 
I  pray  you,  see  him  presently  discharg'd 
For  he  is  bound  for  sea,  and  stays  but  for  it. 

I.  406.  [c.o.B.  aS. 


Acf/l^.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene /. 

An/.  E.  I  am  not  furnish'd  with  the  present  money  ; 
Besides,  I  have  some  business  in  the  town. 
Good  signior,  take  the  stranger  to  my  house, 
And  with  you  take  the  chain,  and  bid  my  wife 
Disburse  the  sum  on  the  receipt  thereof  • 
Perchance  I  will  be  there  as  soon  as  you. 

Aug.  Then  you  will  bring  the  chain  to  her  yourself  ? 

Ant.  E.  No  ; 
Bear't  with  you,  lest  I  come  not  time  enough. 

Ang.  Well,  sir,  I  will.     Have  you  the  chain  about  you  ? 

Ant.  E.  An  if  I  have  not^  sir,  I  hope  you  have ; 
Or  else  you  may  return  without  your  money. 

Ang.  Nay,  come,  I  pray  you,  sir,  give  me  the  chain  : 
Both  wind  and  tide  stay  for  this  gentleman. 
And  I,  to  blame,  have  held  him  here  too  long. 

Ant.  E.  Good  Lord,  you  use  this  dalliance  to  excuse 
Your  breach  of  promise  to  the  Porpentine. 
1  should  have  chid  you  for  not  bringing  it, 
But,  like  a  shrew,  you  first  begin  to  brawl. 

Sec.  Mer.  The  hour  steals  on  ;  I  pray  you,  sir,  dispatch. 

Ang.  You  hear  how  he  importunes  me;  — the  chain  ! 

Ant.  E.  Why,  give  it  to  my  wife,  and  fetch  your  money. 

Ang.    Come,  come,  you  know  I  gave  it  you  even  now. 
Either  send  the  chain,  or  send  me  by  some  token. 

Ant.  E.  Fie,  now  you  run  this  humor  out  of  breath. 
Come,  where's  the  chain  ?    I  pray  you,  let  me  see  it. 

Sec.  Mer.  My  business  cannot  brook  this  dalliance. 
Good  sir,  say  \yher  you'll  answer  me  or  no  :    --     i/f-^UlJJi/L/'^ 
If  not,  I'll  leave  him  to  the  officer. 

Ant.  E.  I  answer  you  !  what  should  I  answer  you  ? 

Ang.  The  money  that  you  owe  me  for  the  chain. 

Ant.  E.  I  owe  you  none  till  I  receive  the  chain. 

Ang,  You  know  I  gave't  you  half  an  hour  since. 

Ant.  E.  You  gave  me  none  :  you    wrong  me  much  to 
say  so. 

Ang.  You  wrong  me  more,  sir,  in  denying  it : 
Consider  how  it  stands  upon  my  credit. 

Sec.  Mer.   Well,  officer,  arrest  him  at  my  suit. 

Off.  I  do  ;  — 
And  charge  you  in  the  duke's  name  to  obey  me. 

C.O.E.  29.]  I.  407. 


Act  /F.j  TJ/B  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  I. 

Aug,  This  touches  me  in  reputation. — 
Either  consent  to  pay  this  sum  for  me, 
(^r  I  attach  you  by  this  officer. 

Ant.  E.  Consent  to  pay  thee  that  I  nev^er  had ! 
Arrest  me,  foohsh  fellow,  if  thou  dar'st. 

Aug.  Here  is  thy  fee  ;  arrest  him,  officer. — 
1  would  not  spare  my  brother  in  this  case. 
If  he  should  scorn  me  so  apparently. 

Off.  I  do  arrest  you,  sir  :  you  hear  the  suit. 

Ant.  E.  1  do  obey  thee  till  I  give  thee  bail. — 
But,  sirrah,  you  shall  buy  this  sport  as  dear 
As  all  the  metal  in  your  shop  will  answer. 

A?ig.  Sir,  sir,  I  shall  have  law  in  Ephesus, 
To  your  notorious  shame,  I  doubt  it  not. 

Enter  Dromio  of  Syracuse. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  there  is  a  bark  of  Epidamnum 
That  stays  but  till  her  owner  comes  aboard. 
And  then  she  bears  away.     Our  fraughtage,  sir, 
I  have  convey 'd  aboard  ;  and  I  have  bought 
The  oil,  the  balsamum,  and  aqua-vita?. 
The  ship  is  in  her  trim  ;  the  merry  wind 
Blows  fair  from  land  :  they  stay  for  naught  at  all 
But  for  their  owner,  master,  and  yourself. 

Ant.   E.  How  now  !  a  madman  !  Why,   thou   peevish 
sheep. 
What  ship  of  Epidamnum  stays  for  me  } 

Dro.  S.  A  ship  you  sent  me  to,  to  hire  waftage. 

Ant.  E.  Thou  drunken  slave,  I  sent  thee  for  a  rope, 
And  told  thee  to  what  purpose  and  what  end. 

Dro.  S.  You  sent  me,  sir,  for  a  rope's-end  as  soon  ; 
You  sent  me  to  the  bay,  sir,  for  a  bark. 

Ant.  E.  I  will  debate  this  matter  at  more  leisure, 
And  teach  your  ears  to  list  me  with  more  heed. 
To  Adriana,  villain,  hie  thee  straight  : 
Give  her  this  key,  and  tell  her,  in  the  desk 
That's  cover'd  o'er  with  Turkish  tapestry 
There  is  a  purse  of  ducats  ;  let  her  send  it : 
Tell  her  I  am  arrested  in  the  street. 
And  that  shall  bail  me  :  hie  thee,  slave,  be  gone. — 
On,  officer,  to  prison  till  it  come. 

[Exeunt  Sec.  Merchant,  Angela,  Officer,  and  Ant.  E. 
I.  40S.  [c.o.s.  3s. 


Act  IV.']  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  II. 

Dro.  S.  To  Adriana  !  that  is  where  we  din'd, 
Where  Dowsabel  did  claim  me  for  her  husband ; 
She  is  too  big,  I  hope,  for  me  to  compass. 
Thither  I  must,  although  against  my  will, 
For  servants  must  their  masters'  minds  fulfill.  lExz't. 

Scene  II.     A   r-oom   in  the  house  of  Antipholus  pf 
Ephesus. 
Enter  Adriana  and  Luciana. 
Adr.  Ah,  Luciana,  did  he  tempt  thee  so  } 

Mightst  thou  perceive  austerely  in  his  eye 
That  he  did  plead  in  earnest,  yea  or  no  ? 

Look'd  he  or  red  or  pale,  or  sad  or  merry  ? 
What  observation  mad'st  thou,  in  this  case, 
Of  his  heart's  meteors  tilting  in  his  face  ? 

Luc.  First  he  denied  you  had  in  him  no  right. 

Adr.  He  meant  he  did  me  none ;  the  more  my  spite. 

Luc.  Then  swore  he  that  he  was  a  stranger  here. 

Adr.  And  true  he  swore,  though  yet  forsworn  he  were. 

Ltic.  Then  pleaded  I  for  you. 

Adr.  And  what  said  he  } 

Luc.  That  love  I  begg'd  for  you  he  begg'd  of  me. 

Adr.  With  what  persuasion  did  he  tempt  thy  love.' 

Luc.  With  words  that  in  an  honest  suit  might  move. 
First  he  did  praise  my  beauty,  then  my  speech. 

Adr.  Didst  speak  him  fair  ? 

Luc.  Have  patience,  I  beseech. 

Adr.  I  cannot,  nor  I  will  not,  hold  me  still  ; 
My  tongue,  though  not  my  heart,  shall  have  his  will. 
He  is  deformed,  crooked,  old,  and  sere, 
Ill-fac'd,  worse-bodied,  shapeless  everywhere  ; 
Vicious,  ungentle,  foolish,  blunt,  unkind  ; 
Stigmatical  in  making,  worse  in  mind. 

Luc.  Who  would  be  jealous,  then,  of  such  a  one.^ 
No  evil  lost  is  wail'd  when  it  is  gone.  . 
Adr.  Ah,  but  I  think  him  better  than  I  say. 

And  yet  would  herein  others'  eyes  were  worse. 
Far  from  her  nest  the  lapwing  cries  away  : 

My  heart  prays  for  him,  though  my  tongue  do  curse. 
Enter  Dromio  of  Syracuse. 

Dro.  S.  Here,  go  ;  the  desk,  the  purse  !  sweet,  now, 
make  haste. 

C.O.B.  JT.l  I.  409. 


MetlV.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene If. 

Luc.  How  hast  thou  lost  thy  breath  ? 

Dro.  S.  By  running  fast. 

Adr.  Where  is  thy  master,  Dromio  ?  is  lie  well  ? 

Dro.  S.  No,  he's  in  Tartar  limbo,  worse  than  hell. 
A  devil  in  an  everlasting  garment  hath  him  ; 
One  whose  hard  heart  is  button 'd  up  with  steel ; 
A  tiend,  a  fury,  pitiless  and  rough  ; 
A  wolf,  nay,  worse, —  a  fellow  all  in  buff  ; 
A  back-friend,  a  shoulder-clapper,  one  that  countermands 
The  passages  of  alleys,  creeks,  and  narrow  lands  ; 
A  hound  that  runs  counter,  and  yet  draws  dry-foot  well ; 
One  that,  before  the  judgment,  carries  poor  souls  to  hell. 

Adr.  Why,  man,  what  is  the  matter  ? 

Dro.  S.  I  do  not  know  the  matter :  he  is  'rested  on  the 
case. 

Adr.  What,  is  he  arrested  ?  tell  me  at  whose  suit. 

Dro.  S.  I  know  not  at  whose  suit  he  is  arrested  well; 
But  'is  in  a  suit  of  buff  which  'rested  him,  that  can  I  tell. 
Will  you  send  him,  mistress,  redemption,  the  money  in 
his  desk  ? 

Adr.  Go  fetch  it,  sister. —  This  I  wonder  at, 

yE.vit  Luciana. 
That  he,  unknown  to  me,  should  be  in  debt. — - 
Tell  me,  was  he  arrested  on  a  band  } 

Dro.  S.  Not  on  a  band,  but  on  a  stronger  thing, — 
A  chain,  a  chain  :  —  do  you  not  hear  it  ring  ? 

Adr.  What,  the  chain  ? 

Dro.  S.  No,  no,  the  bell :  —  'tis  time  that  I  were  gone : 
It  was  two  ere  I  left  him,  and  now  the  clock  strikes  one. 

Adr.  The  hours  come  back  !  that  did  I  never  hear. 

Dro.  S.  O,  yes ;  if  any  hour  meet  a  sergeant,  'a  turns 
back  for  very  fear. 

Adr.  As  if  Time  were  in  debt !  how  fondly  dost  thou 
reason  ! 

Dro.  S.  Time  is  a  very  bankrupt,  and  owes  more  than 
he's  worth  to  season. 
Nay,  he's  a  thief  too  :  have  you  not  heard  men  say, 
That  Time  comes  stealing  on  by  night  and  day  ? 
If  Time  be  in  debt  and  theft,  and  a  sergeant  in  the  way. 
Hath  he  not  reason  to  turn  back  an  hour  in  a  day  } 

I.  410.  [C.O.E    32. 


Act /r.]'  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [:.ce»e  III. 

Re-enter  LUCIANA  ztnih  the  purse. 

Adr.  Go,  Dromio  ;  there's  the  money,  bear  it  straight  ; 

And  bring  thy  master  home  immediately. — 
Come,  sister :  I  am  press'd  down  with  conceit, — 

Conceit,  my  comfort  and  my  injury.  \Exeunt. 

Scene  III.  A  public plaee. 
Enter  Antipholus  of  Syracuse. 

Ant.   S.  There's  not  a  man  I  meet  but  doth  salute  me 
As  if  I  were  their  well-acquainted  friend  ; 
And  every  one  doth  call  me  by  my  name. 
Some  tender  money  to  me ;  some  invite  me; 
Some  other  give  me  thanks  for  kindnesses  ; 
Some  offer  me  commodities  to  buy  ;  — 
Even  now  a  tailor  call'd  me  in  his  shop, 
And  show'd  me  silks  that  he  had  bought  for  me, 
And  therewithal  took  measure  of  my  body. 
Sure,  these  are  but  imaginary  wiles. 
And  Lapland  sorcerers  inhabit  here. 

Enter  Dromio  of  Syracuse. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  here's  the  gold  you  sent  me  for. — 
What,  have  you  got  the  picture  of  old  Adam  new-appar- 
eled } 

Ant.  S.  What  gold  is  this?  what  Adam  dost  thou 
mean  } 

Dro.  S.  Not  that  Adam  that  kept  the  Paradise,  but 
that  Adam  that  keeps  the  prison  :  he  that  goes  in  the 
calf's  skin  that  was  killed  for  the  Prodigal  ;  he  that  came 
behind  you,  sir,  like  an  evil  angel,  and  bid  you  forsake 
your  liberty. 

Ant.  S.    I  understand  thee  not. 

Dro.  S.  No  ?  why,  'tis  a  plain  case  :  he  that  went, 
like  a  base-viol,  in  a  case  of  leather  ;  the  man,  sir,  that, 
when  gentlemen  are  tired,  gives  them  a  sob,  and  'rests 
them  ;  he,  sir,  that  takes  pity  on  decayed  men,  and  gives 
them  suits  of  durance  ;  he  that  sets  up  his  rest  to  do 
more  exploits  with  his  mace  than  a  morris-pike. 

Ant.  S.    What,  thou  meanest  an  officer.? 

Dro.  S.  Ay,  sir,  the  sergeant  of  the  band  ;  hi  that 
brings  any  man  to  answer  it  that  breaks  his  band  ;  one 

C.o.B.  33.]  I.  411. 


Ac//r.'\  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Seem- HI. 

that  thinks  a  man  always  going  to  bed,  and  says,  "  God 
give  you  good  rest  ! " 

Ant.  S.  Well,  sir,  there  rest  in  your  foolery.  Is  there 
any  ship  puts  forth  to-night  ?  may  we  be  gone  ? 

Dro.  S.  Why,  sir,  I  brought  you  word  an  hour  since, 
that  the  bark  Expedition  put  forth  to-night  ;  and  then 
were  you  hindered  by  the  sergeant,  to  tarry  for  the  hoy 
Delay.  Here  are  the  angels  that  you  sent  for  to  deliver 
you. 

Atit.   S.  The  fellow  is  distract,  and  so  am  I ; 
And  here  we  wander  in  illusions  : 
Some  blessed  power  deliver  us  from  hence ! 
Enter  a   Courtesan. 

Cour.  Well  met,  well  met.  Master  Antipholus. 
I  see,  sir,  you  have  found  the  goldsmith  now  : 
Is  that  the  chain  you  promis'd  me  to-day  } 

Ant.  S.  Satan,  avoid  !  I  charge  thee,  tempt  me  not. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  is  this  Mistress  Satan  ? 

Ant.   S.  It  is  the  devil. 

Dro.  S.  Nay,  she  is  worse,  she  is  the  devil's  dam  ; 
and  here  she  comes  in  the  habit  of  a  light  wench  ;  and 
thereof  comes  that  the  wenches  say,  "God  damn  me  ;" 
that's  as  much  as  to  say,  "  God  make  me  a  light  wench.  "  It 
is  written,  they  appear  to  men  like  angels  of  light :  light  is 
an  effect  of  fire,  and  fire  will  burn ;  er^-o,  light  wenches 
will  burn.    Come  not  near  her. 

Cour.  Your  man  and  you  are  marvelous  merrv,  sir. 
Will  you  go  with  me  ?  We'll  mend  our  dinner  here. 

Dro.  S.  Master,  if  you  do,  expect  spoon-meat  ;  so  be- 
speak a  long  spoon. 

Ant.  S.  Why,  Dromio  ? 

Dro.  S.  Marry,  he  must  have  a  long  spoon  that  must 
eat  with  the  devil. 

Ant.  S.  Avoid  thee,  fiend  I    what    tell'st    thou  me  of 
supping  ? 
Thou  art,  as  you  are  all,  a  sorceress  : 
I  conjure  thee  to  leave  me  and  be  gone. 

Cour.  Give  me  the  ring  of  mine  you  had  at  dinner. 
Or,  for  my  diamond,  the  chain  you  promis'd  ; 
And  I'll  be  gone,  sir,  and  not  trouble  you. 

Dro.  S.  Some  devils  ask  but  the  parings  of  one's  nail, 
A  rush,  a  hair,  a  drop  of  blood,  a  pin, 

I.  4IW.  [C.O.E.  34. 


ActIV.'\  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \_S,:e>ie  IV. 

A  nut,  a  cherry-stone  ; 

But  she,  more  covetous,  would  have  a  chain. 

Master,  be  wise  :  an  if  you  give  it  her. 

The  devil  will  shake  her  chain,  and  fright  us  with  it. 

Cour.  I  pray  you.  sir,  niv  ring,  or  else  the  chain  : 
I  hope  you  do  not  mean  to  cheat  me  so. 

Ant.  S .  Avaunt,  thou  witch  I  —  Come,  Dromio.  let  us 
go. 

Dro.    S .    "  Fly    pride,"  says    the  peacock  :    mistress, 
that  you  know.     \Exciint  Ant.  S.  and  Dro.  S. 

Cour.  Now,  out  of  doubt  Antipholus  is  mad, 
Else  would  he  never   so  demean  himself. 
A  ring  he  hath  of  mine  worth  forty  ducats. 
And  for  the  same  he  promis'd  me  a  chain  : 
Both  one  and  other  he  denies  me  now. 
The  reason  that  I  gather  he  is  mad, — 
Besides  this  present  instance  of  his  rage, — 
Is  a  mad  tale  he  told  to-day  at  dinner. 
Of  his  own  doors  being  shut  against  his  entrance. 
Belike  his  wife,  acquainted  with  his  fits. 
On  purpose  shut  the  doors  against  his  way. 
My  way  is  now  to  hie  home  to  his  house. 
And  tell  his  wife  that,  being  lunatic. 
He  rush'd  into  my  house,  and  took  perforce 
My  ring  away.     This  course  I  fittest  choose  ; 
For  forty  ducats  is  too  much  to  lose.  \^Exit, 

Scene  IV.      A  street. 

Enter  Antipholus  of  Ephesus  and  the  Officer. 

Ant.  E.  Fear  me  not,  man  ;  I  will  not  break  away : 
I'll  give  thee,  ere  I  leave  thee,  so  much  money. 
To  warrant  thee,  as  I  am  'rested  for. 
My  wife  is  in  a  wayward  mood  to-day. 
And  will  not  lightly  trust  the  messenger: 
That  I  should  be  attach 'd  in  Ephesus, 
I  tell  you,  'twill  sound  harshly  in  her  ears. — 
Here  comes  my  man  ;  I  think  he  brings  the  money. 

Enter  Dromio  of  Ephesus  iinth  a  rope's-end. 

How  now,    sir !  have  you  that  I  sent  you  for  ? 

Dro.  E.  Here's  that,  I  warrant  you,  will  pay  them  all 
Ant.  E,  But  Where's  the  money  ? 

c.o.B.  35.]  I.  413. 


Act  /K]  THE  COMEVV  OF  EKKORS.  {Scene  /K 

Dro.  E.  Why,  sir,  I  gave  the  money  for  the  rope. 

Ant.  E.  Five  hundred  ducats,  villain,  for  a  rope  ? 

Dro.  E.  I'll  serve  you,  sir,  five  hundred  at  the  rate. 

Ant.  E.  To  what  end  did  1  bid  thee  hie  thee  home  } 

Dro.  E.  To  a  rope's-end,  sir  ;  and  to  that  end  am  I 
returned. 

Ant.  E.  And  to  that  end,  sir,  I  will  welcome  you. 

{Beating  hitn. 

Off.  Good  sir,  be  patient. 

Dro.  E.  Nay,  'tis  for  me  to  be  patient  ;  I  am  in  ad- 
versity. 

Off.  Good,  now,  hold  th)-  tongue, 

Dro.  E,  Nay,  rather  persuade  him  to  hold  his  hands. 

Ant.  E.  Thou  whoreson,  senseless  villain  I 

Dro.  E,  I  would  I  were  senseless,  sir,  that  I  might  not 
feel  your  blows. 

Ant.  E.  Thou  art  sensible  in  nothing  but  blows,  and 
so  is  an  ass. 

Dro.  E.  I  am  an  ass,  indeed  ;  you  may  prove  it  by 
my  long  ears. —  I  have  served  him  from  the  hour  of  my 
nativity  to  this  instant,  and  have  nothing  at  his  hands 
for  my  service  but  blows.  When  I  am  cold,  he  heats  me 
with  beating ;  when  I  am  warm,  he  cools  me  with  beat- 
ing :  I  am  waked  with  it  when  I  sleep  ;  raised  with  it 
when  I  sit  ;  driven  out  of  doors  with  it  when  I  go  from 
home ;  welcomed  home  with  it  when  I  return  :  nay,  1 
bear  it  on  my  shoulders,  as  a  beggar  wont  her  brat  , 
and,  I  think,  when  he  hath  lamed  me,  I  shall  beg  with  it 
from  door  to  door. 

Ant.  E.  Come,  go  along ;  my  wife  is  coming  yonder. 

Enter  Adriana,  Luciana,  the  Courtesan,  and  PiNCH. 

Dro.  E.  Mistress,  respice  fineni,  respect  your  end  ;  or 
rather,  to  prophesy  like  the  parrot,  "  Beware  the  rope's- 
end." 

Ant.  E.  Wilt  thou  still  talk  .'  {Beating  him. 

Conr.  How  say  you  now  ?  is  not  your  husband  mad  } 

Adr.  His  incivility  confirms  no  less. — 
Good  Doctor  Pinch,  you  are  a  conjurer ; 
Establish  him  in  his  true  sense  again, 
And  I  will  please  you  what  you  will  demand. 

Luc.  Alas,  how  fiery  and  how  sharp  he  looks ! 

I.  414.  [C.O.E.  36, 


Act /I'.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \,Scen€  IV. 

Cour.  Mark  how  he  trembles  in  his  ecstasy  ! 

Pinch.  Give  me  your  hand,  and  let  me  feel  your  pulse. 

Ant.  E.  There  is  my  hand,  and  let  it  feel  your  ear. 

{Striking  him. 

Pinch.  I  charge  thee,  Satan,  hous'd  within  this  man. 
To  yield  possession  to  my  holy  prayers, 
And  to  thy  state  of  darkness  hie  thee  straight  ; 
I  conjure  thee  by  all  the  saints  in  heaven  ! 

Ant.  E.  Peace,  doting  wizard,  peace  !  I  am  not  mad. 

Adr.  O  that  thou  wert  not,  poor  distressed  soul  ! 

Ant.  E.  You  minion,  you,  are  these  your  customers  .'' 
Did  this  companion  with  the  saffron  face 
Revel  and  feast  it  at  my  house  to-day. 
Whilst  upon  me  the  guilty  doors  were  shut, 
And  I  denied  to  enter  in  my  house? 

Adr.  O  husband,  God  doth  know  you  din'd  at  home  ; 
Where  would  you  had  remain 'd  until  this  time. 
Free  from  these  slanders  and  this  open  shame  ! 

Ant.  E.  I  din'd  at  home!  —  Thou  villain,  what  say'st 
thou  } 

Dro.  E.  Sir,  sooth  to  say,  you  did  not  dine  at  home. 

Ant.  E.   Were  not  my  doors  lock'd  up,  and  I  shut  out  } 

Dro.  E.  Perd)',    your  doors  were  lock'd,  and  you  shut 
out. 

Ant.  E.   And  did  not  she  herself  revile  me  there  } 

Dro.  E.  Sans  fable,  she  herself  revil'd  you  there. 

Ant.  E.   Did  not    her  kitchen-maid    rail,  taunt,    and 
scorn  me .' 

Dro.  E.    Certes,   she  did  ;  the  kitchen-vestal   scorn'd 
you. 

Ant.   E.   And  did  not  I  in  rage  depart  from  thence  } 

Dro.   E.  In  verity  you  did  ;  —  my  bones  bear  witness. 
That  since  have  felt  the  vigor  of  his  rage. 

Adr.  Is't  good  to  soothe  him  in  these  contraries  } 

Pinch.   It  is  no  shame  :  the  fellow  finds  his  vein. 
And,  yielding  to  him,  humors  well  his  frenzy. 

Ant.  E.   Thou  hast  suborn'd  the  goldsmith  to  arrest 
me. 

Adr.   Alas,  I  sent  you  money  to  redeem  you, 
By  Dromio  here,  who  came  in  haste  for  it. 

C.O.E.  37.]  I.  415. 


Act  /y.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  IV. 

Dro.   E.    Money    by    me !    heart  and    good-will    you 
might ; 
But  surely,  mistress,  not  a  rag  of  money. 

Ant.  E.   Went'st  not  thou  to  her  for  a  purse  of  ducats  ? 

Adr.   He  came  to  me,  and  I  deliver'd  it. 

Luc.   And  I  am  witness  with  her  that  she  did. 

Dro.  E.   God  and  the  rope-maker  now  bear  me  wit- 
ness 
That  I  was  sent  for  nothing  but  a  rope  ! 

Pinch.  Mistress,  both  man  and  master  is  possess'd  ; 
I  know  it  by  their  pale  and  deadly  looks : 
They  must  be  bound,  and  laid  in  some  dark  room. 

Ant.  E.   Say,  wherefore  didst  thou  lock  me  forth  to- 
day }  — 
And  why  dost  thou  deny  the  bag  of  gold  } 

Adr.   I  did  not,  gentle  husband,  lock  thee  forth. 

Dro.   E.   And,  gentle  master,  I  receiv'd  no  gold  ; 
But  I  confess,  sir,  that  we  were  lock'd  out. 

Adr.   Dissembling  villain,  thou  speak'st  false  in  both. 

Ant.   E.   Dissembling  harlot,  thou  art  false  in  all ; 
And  art  confederate  with  a  damned  pack 
To  make  a  loathsome  abject  scorn  of  me  : 
But  with  these  nails  I'll  pluck  out  those  false  eyes, 
That  would  behold  in  me  this  shameful  sport. 

Adr.   O,  bind  him,  bind  him  I  let  him  not  come  near 
me. 

Pinch.   More  company!  —  The  fiend  is  strong  within 
him. 

Luc.   Ay  me,  poor  man,  how  pale  and  wan  he  looks  ! 

Enter  three  or  four,  who  assist  Ptn'CH    ///  binding 
Ant.  E  and  Dro.  E. 

Ant.  E.    What,  will  you  murder  me  .•'  —  Thou  gaoler, 
thou, 
I  am  thy  prisoner :  wilt  thou  suffer  them 
To  make  a  rescue  } 

Off,   Masters,  let  him  go  : 
He  is  my  prisoner,  and  you  shall  not  have  him. 

Pinch.   Go  bind  this  man,  for  he  is  frantic  too. 

Adr.   What  wilt  thou  do,  thou  peevish  officer.? 
Hast  thou  delight  to  see  a  wretched  man 
Do  outrage  and  displeasure  to  himself } 

I.  416.  [C.O.E.  38, 


/ict/V.I  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \Scene  IV. 

Off.   He  is  my  prisoner  :  if  I  let  him  go, 
The  debt  he  owes  will  be  requir'd  of  me. 

Adr.   I  will  discharge  thee  ere  1  go  from  thee : 
Bear  me  forthwith  unto  his  creditor, 
And,  knowing  how  the  debt  grows,  I  will  pay  it. — 
Good  master  doctor,  see  him  safe  convey'd 
Home  to  my  house. —  O  most  unhappy  day ! 

Ant.  E.  O  most  unhappy  strumpet  ! 

Dro.  E.   Master,  I'm  here  enter'd  in  bond  for  you. 

Ant.  E.    Out  on  thee,   villain  !    wherefore  dost   thou 
mad  me  .■* 

Dro.  E.   Will  you   be  bound   for  nothing .'    be   mad, 
good  master  ;  cry,  "  The  devil !  " 

Luc.   God  help,  poor  souls,  how  idly  do  they  talk  I 

Ad}-.  Go  bear  him  hence. —  Sister,  go  you  with  me. 
[Exeunt  Pinch  and  Assistants  with  Ant.  E.  and  Dro.  E. 
Say  now  whose  suit  is  he  arrested  at  } 

Off.   One  Angelo,  a  goldsmith  :  do  you  know  him  ? 

Adr.   I  know  the  man.     What  is  the  sum  he  owes  ? 

Off.   Two  hundred  ducats. 

Adr.  Say,  how  grows  it  due  ? 

Off.   Due  for  a  chain  your  husband  had  of  him. 

Adr.   He  did  bespeak  a  chain  for  me,  but  had  't  not. 

Cour.   Whenas  your  husband,  all  in  rage,  to-day 
Came  to  my  house,  and  took  away  my  ring, — 
The  ring  I  saw  upon  his  finger  now, — 
Straight  after  did  I  meet  him  with  a  chain. 

Adr.   It  may  be  so,  but  I  did  never  see  it. — 
Come,  gaoler,  bring  me  where  the  goldsmith  is  . 
I  long  to  know  the  truth  hereof  at  large. 

Enter  Antipholus  of  Syracuse  and  Dromio  oi 
Syracuse  with  their  rapiers  drawn. 

Luc.  God,  for  thy  mercy  !  they  are  loose  again. 
Adr.  And  come  with  naked   swords.      Let's  call  more 
help. 
To  have  them  bound  again. 

Off.  Away!    they'll  kill  us. 

\Exetoit  Adriana,  Luciana,  the  Courtesan,  and  Officer. 
Ant.  S.  I  see  these  witches  are  afraid  of  swords. 
Dro.  S.  She  that    would  be    your  wife    now  ran  from 
you. 

c.o.B.  39.]  1.  4'7- 


Aci  y.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  IScene  I. 

Ant.  S.  Come  to  the  Ceiilaur;    fetch  our  stuff  from 
thence : 
I  long  that  we  were  safe  and  sound  aboard. 

Dro.  S.  Faith,  stay  here  this  night  ;  they  will  surely  do 
us  no  harm  :  you  see  they  speak  us  fair,  give  us  gold  : 
methinks  they  are  such  a  gentle  nation,  that,  but  for  the 
mountain  of  mad  flesh  that  claims  marriage  of  me,  I 
could  find  in  my  heart  to  stay  here  still,  and  turn  witch. 

Ant.  S.  I  will  not  stay  to-night  for  all  the  town  ; 
Therefore  away,  to  get  our  stuff  aboard.  [Exeunt. 

ACT   V. 

Scene  I.    Before  an  abbey. 

Enter  Second  Merchant  and  Angelo. 

Ang.  I'm  sorry,  sir,  that  I  have  hinder'd  you; 
But,  I  protest,  he  had  the  chain  of  me, 
Though  most  dishonestly  he  doth  deny  it. 

Sec.  M.  How  is  the  man  esteem "d  here  in  the  city? 

Ang.  Of  very  reverend  reputation,  sir, 
Of  credit  infinite,  highly  belov'd. 
Second  to  none  that  lives  here  in  the  city  : 
His  word  might  bear  my  wealth  at  any  time. 

Sec.  Mer.  Speak  softly :   yonder,  as  I  think,  he  walks. 

Enter  Antipholus  of  Syracuse  and  Dromio  of 
Syracuse. 

Ang.  'Tis  so  ;  and  that  self  chain  about  his  neck. 
Which  he  forswore  most  monstrously  to  have. 
Good  sir,  draw  near  to  me,  I'll  speak  to  him. — 
Signior  Antipholus,  I  wonder  much 
That  you  would  put  me  to  this  shame  and  trouble ; 
And,  not  without  some  scandal  to  yourself, 
With  circumstance  and  oaths  so  to  deny 
This  chain,  which  now  you  wear  so  openly : 
Beside  the  charge,  the  shame,  imprisonment. 
You  have  done  wrong  to  this  my  honest  friend  ; 
Who,  but  for  staying  on  our  controversy. 
Had  hoisted  sail  and  put  to  sea  to-day : 
This  chain  you  had  of  me  ;  can  you  deny  it .'' 

Atit.  S.  I  think  I  had ;  I  never  did  deny  it. 

I.  418.  [cob.  40. 


4ci  y.]  THE  COMEVV  OF  ERRORS.  [Seen,!  I. 

Sec.  Mer.  Yes,  that  you  did,  sir,  and  forswore  it  too. 

Ant.  Who  heard  me  to  deny  it  or  forswear  it  ? 

Sec.  Mer.  These  ears  of  mine,  thou  know'st,  did  hear 
thee  : 
Fie  on  thee,  wretch  !  'tis  pity  that  thou  Hv'st 
To  walk  where  any  honest  men  resort. 

Ant.  S.  Thou  art  a  villain  to  impeach  me  thos  : 
I'll  prove  mine  honor  and  mine  honesty 
Against  thee  presently,  if  thou  dar'st  stand. 

Sec.  Mer.   I  dare,  and  do  defy  thee  for  a  villain. 

\They  draw. 

Enter  Adriana,  Luciana,  the  Courtesan,    and  others. 

Adr.  Hold,  hurt  him  not,  for  God's  sake  !  he  is  mad. — 
Some  get  within  him,  take  his  sword  away : 
Bind  Dromio  too,  and  bear  them  to  my  house. 

Dro.  S.  Run,  master,  run  ;  for  God's  sake,  take  a  house  ! 
This  is  some  priory  :  —  in,  or  we  are  spoil'd. 

{Exeunt  Ant.  S.  and  Dro.  S.  into  the  abbey. 

Enter  the  Abbess. 

Abb.  Be  quiet,  people.     Wherefore  throng  you  hither  } 

Adr.  To  fetch  my  poor  distracted  husband  hence. 
Let  us  come  in,  that  we  may  bind  him  fast. 
And  bear  him  home  for  his  recovery. 

Ang.  I  knew  he  was  not  in  his  perfect  wits. 

Sec.  Mer.   I'm  sorry  now  that  I  did  draw  on  him. 

Abb.  How  long  hath  this  possession  held  the  man  ? 

Adr.  This  week  he  hath  been  heavy,  sour,  sad. 
And  much  much  different  from  the  man  he  was  ; 
But  till  this  afternoon  his  passion 
Ne'er  brake  into  extremity  of  rage. 

Abb.  Hath  he  not  lost  much  wealth  by  wreck  of  sea? 
Buried  some  dear  friend  ?  Hath  not  else  his  eye 
Stray 'd  his  affection  in  unlawful  love, — 
A  sin  prevailing  much  in  youthful  men, 
Who  give  their  eyes  the  liberty  of  gazing  } 
Which  of  these  sorrows  is  he  subject  to  .'' 

Adr.  To  none  of  these,  except  it  be  the  last ; 
Namely,  some  love  that  drew  him  oft  from  home. 

Abb.  You  should  for  that  have  reprehended  him. 

Adr.  Why,  so  I  did, 

C.0.B.4I.]  I.  419. 


Act  V.\  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  \Scene  I. 

Abb.  Ay,  but  not  rough  enough. 

Adr.  As  roughly  as  my  modesty  would  let  me. 

Abb.  Haply,  in  private. 

Adr.  And  in  assemblies  too, 

Abb.  Ay,  but  not  enough. 

Adr.  It  was  the  copy  of  our  conference  : 
In  bed,  he  slept  not  for  my  urging  it ; 
At  board,  he  fed  not  for  my  urging  it  ; 
Alone,  it  was  the  subject  of  my  theme  ; 
In  company  I  often  glanc'd  at  it  ; 
Still  did  I  tell  him  it  was  vile  and  bad. 

Abb.  And  thereof  came  it  that  the  man  was  mad  : 
The  venom-clamors  of  a  jealous  woman 
Poison  more  deadly  than  a  mad-dog's  tooth.. 
It  seems  his  sleeps  were  hinder'd  by  thy  railing  : 
And  thereof  comes  it  that  his  head  is  light. 
Thou  say'st  his  meat  was  sauc'd  with  thy  upbraidings: 
Unquiet  meals  make  ill  digestions, — 
Thereof  the  raging  fire  of  fever  bred  ; 
And  what's  a  fever  but  a  fit  of  madness  ? 
Thou  say'st  his  sports  were  hinder'd  by  thy  brawls; 
Sweet  recreation  barr'd,  what  doth  ensue 
But  moody,  moping,  and  dull  melancholy, 
Kinsman  to  grim  and  comfortless  despair  ; 
And  at  her  heels  a  huge  infectious  troop 
Of  pale  distemperatures  and  foes  to  life  ? 
In  food,  in  sport,  and  life-preserving  rest 
To  be  disturb'd,  would  mad  or  man  or  beast : 
The  consequence  is,  then,  thy  jealous  fits 
Have  scar'd  thy  husband  from  the  use  of  wits. 

Lite.  She  never  reprehended  him  but  mildly. 
When  he  demean'd  himself  rough-rude  and  wildly. — 
Why  bear  you  these  rebukes,  and  answer  not .' 

Adr.  She  did  betray  me  to  my  own  reproof. — 
Good  people,  enter,  and  lay  hold  on  him. 

Abb.  No,  not  a  creature  enters  in  my  house. 

Adr.  Then  let  your  servants  bring  my  husband  forth. 

Abb.  Neither  :  he  took  this  place  for  sanctuar}'. 
And  it  shall  privilege  him  from  your  hands 
Till  I  have  brought  him  to  his  wits  again, 
Or  lose  my  labor  in  assaying  it. 

I.  430.  [C.O.B.  4A 


Aet  K.]  THE  COMED  V  OF  ERRORS.  [Syrette  I. 

Adr.  I  will  attend  my  husband,  be  his  nurse, 
Diet  his  sickness,  for  it  is  my  office. 
And  will  have  no  attorney  but  myself ; 
And  therefore  let  me  have  him  home  with  me. 

Abb.  Be  patient ;  for  I  will  not  let  him  stir 
Till  I  have  us'd  th'  apjiroved  means  I  have, 
With  wholesome  syrups,  drugs,  and  holy  prayers, 
To  make  of  him  a  formal  man  again  : 
It  is  a  branch  and  parcel  of  mine  oath, 
A  charitable  duty  of  my  order. 
Therefore  depart,  and  leave  him  here  with  me. 

Adr.  I  will  not  hence,  and  leave  my  husband  here  : 
And  ill  it  doth  beseem  your  holiness 
To  separate  the  husband  and  the  wife. 

Abb.     Be  quiet,  and  depart  :  thou  shalt  not  have  him. 

YExit. 

Luc.  Complain  unto  the  duke  of  this  indignity. 

Adr.  Come,  go  :  I  will  fall  prostrate  at  his  feet, 
And  never  rise  until  my  tears  and  prayers 
Have  won  his  grace  to  ccme  in  person  hither, 
And  take  perforce  my  hus  and  from  the  abbess. 

Sec.  Mer.  By  this,  I  thmk,  the  dial  points  at  five: 
Anon,  I'm  sure,  the  duke  himself  in  person 
Comes  this  way  to  the  melancholy  vale. 
The  place  of  death  and  sorry  execution, 
Behind  the  ditches  of  the  abbey  here. 

Ang.  Upon  what  cause  .i* 

Sec.  Mer.  To  see  a  reverend  Syracusian  merchant, 
Who  put  unluckily  into  this  bay 
Against  the  laws  and  statutes  of  this  town. 
Beheaded  publicly  for  his  offense. 

Ang.     See  where  they  come  :  we  will  behold  his  death, 

Luc.  Kneel  to  the  duke  before  he  pass  the  abbey. 

Enter  Duke,  attended ;  yEOEON  bareheaded ;  with   the 
Headsman  and  other  Officers. 

Duke.  Yet  once  again  proclaim  it  publicly, 

If  any  friend  will  pay  the  sum  for  him. 

He  shall  not  die,  so  much  we  tender  him. 

Adr.  Justice,  most  sacred  duke,  against  the  abbess  I 
Duke.  She  is  a  virtuous  and  a  reverend  lady  : 

It  cannot  be  that  she  hath  done  thee  wrong. 

C.O.K.  43,]  I.  421. 


Ac/y.^  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  I. 

Adr.  May't  please  your  grace,   Antipholus   my   hus- 
band,— 
Who  I  made  lord  of  me  and  all  I  had, 
At  your  important  letters, —  this  ill  day 
A  most  outrageous  fit  of  madness  took  him  ; 
That  desperately  he  hurried  through  the  street,- 
With  him  his  bondman,  all  as  mad  as  he,— 
Doing  displeasure  to  the  citizens 
By  rushing  in  their  houses,  bearing  thence 
Rings,  jewels,  any  thing  his  rage  did  like. 
Once  did  I  get  him  bound,  and  sent  him  home, 
Whilst  to  take  order  for  the  wrongs  I  went, 
That  here  and  there  his  fury  had  committed. 
Anon,  I  wot  not  by  what  strange  escape, 
He  broke  from  those  that  had  the  guard  of  him ; 
And  with  his  mad  attendant  and  himself. 
Each  one  with  ireful  passion,  with  drawn  swords, 
Met  us  again,  and,  madly  bent  on  us, 
Chas'd  us  away  ;  till,  raising  of  more  aid, 
We  came  again  to  bind  them.     Then  they  fled 
Into  this  abbey,  whither  we  pursu'd  them  ; 
And  here  the  abbess  shuts  the  gates  on  us, 
And  will  not  suffer  us  to  fetch  him  out. 
Nor  send  him  forth,  that  we  may  bear  him  hence. 
Therefore,  most  gracious  duke,  with  thy  command 
Let  him  be  brought  forth,  and  borne  hence  for  help. 

Duke.  Long  since  thy  husband   serv'd  me  in  my  wars ; 
And  I  to  thee  engag'd  a  prince's  word. 
When  thou  didst  make  him  master  of  thy  bed. 
To  do  him  all  the  grace  and  good  I  could. — 
Go,  some  of  you,  knock  at  the  abbey-gate. 
And  bid  the  lady  abbess  come  to  me. — 
I  will  determine  this  before  I  stir. 

Enter  a  Servant. 

Serv.  O  mistress,  mistress,  shift  and  save  yourself  ! 
My  master  and  his  man  are  both  broke  loose. 
Beaten  the  maids  a-row,  and  bound  the  doctor. 
Whose  beard  they  have  sing'd  off  with  brands  of  fire  ; 
And  ever,  as  it  blaz'd,  they  threw  on  him 
Great  pails  of  puddled  mire  to  quench  the  hair: 
My  master  preaches  patience  to  him,  the  while 

I.    422.  [C.O.E.   44. 


Act  r.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  I. 

His  man  with  scissors  nicks  him  like  a  fool ; 
And  sure,  unless  you  send  some  present  help, 
Between  them  they  will  kill  the  conjurer. 

Adr.  Peace,  fool !  thy  master  and  his  man  are  here; 
And  that  is  false  thou  dost  report  to  us. 

Serv.  Mistress,  upon  my  life,  I  tell  you  true ; 
I  have  not  breath'd  almost  since  I  did  see  it. 
He  cries  for  you,  and  vows,  if  he  can  take  you. 
To  scotch  your  face,  and  to  disfigure  you.     \Cry  within. 
Hark,  hark  !  I  hear  him,  mistress  :  fly,  be  gone  ! 

Duke.  Come,  stand  by  me  ;  fear  nothing. —  Guard  with 
halberds ! 

Adr.  Ay  me,  it  is  my  husband  !     Witness  you, 
That  he  is  borne  about  invisible  : 
Even  now  we  hous'd  him  in  the  abbey  here ; 
And  now  he's  there,  past  thought  of  human  reason. 
Enter  Antipholus  of  Ephesus  and  Dromio  of  Ephesus. 

Ant.  E.  Justice,  most  gracious  duke,  O,  grant  me  jus- 
tice ! 
Even  for  the  service  that  long  since  I  did  thee, 
When  I  bestrid  thee  in  the  wars,  and  took 
Deep  scars  to  save  thy  life  ;  even  for  the  blood 
That  then  I  lost  for  thee,  now  grant  me  justice. 

^ge.  Unless  the  fear  of  death  doth  make  me  dote, 
I  see  my  son  Antipholus,  and  Dromio. 

A7it.  E.    Justice,    sweet  prince,  against  that    woman 
there ! 
She  whom  thou  gav'st  to  me  to  be  my  wife. 
That  hath  abused  and  dishonor'd  me 
Even  in  the  strength  and  height  of  injury  : 
Beyond  imagination  is  the  wrong 
That  she  this  day  hath  shameless  thrown  on  me. 

Diike.  Discover  how,  and  thou  shalt  find  me  just. 

Ant.  E.  This  day,  great  duke,  she  shut  the  doors  upon 
me. 
While  she  with  harlots  feasted  in  my  house. 

Duke.  A  grievous   fault. —  Say,  woman,  didst  thou  so  } 

Adr.  No,  my  good  lord  :  myself,  he,  and  my  sister. 
To-day  did  dine  together.     So  befall  my  soul 
As  this  is  false  he  burdens  me  withal ! 

Luc.  Ne'er  may  I  look  on  day,  nor  sleep  on  night, 
But  she  tells  to  your  highness  simple  truth  ! 

C.O.E.  45.]  I.  423. 


Act  v."]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene  1. 

Ang.  O  perjur'd  woman  !  — They  are  both  forsworn 
In  this  the  madman  justly  chargeth  them. 

AJit.  E.  My  liege,  I  am  advised  what  I  say ; 
Neither  disturbed  with  th'  effect  of  wine. 
Nor  heady-rash,  provok'd  with  raging  ire, 
Albeit  my  wrongs  might  make  one  wiser  mad. 
This  woman  lock'd  me  out  this  day  from  dinner : 
That  goldsmith  there,  were  he  not  pack'd  with  her, 
Could  witness  it,  for  he  was  with  me  then  ; 
Who  parted  with  me  to  go  fetch  a  chain, 
Promising  to  bring  it  to  the  Porpentine, 
Where  Balthazar  and  I  did  dine  together. 
Our  dinner  done,  and  he  not  coming  thither, 
I  went  to  seek  him  :  in  the  street  I  met  him. 
And  in  his  company  that  gentleman. 
There  did  this  perjur'd  goldsmith  swear  me  down 
That  I  this  day  of  him  receiv'd  the  chain. 
Which,  God  he  knows,  I  saw  not :  for  the  which 
He  did  arrest  me  with  an  officer. 
I  did  obey ;  and  sent  my  peasant  home 
For  certain  ducats :  he  with  none  return'd. 
Then  fairly  I  bespoke  the  officer 
To  go  in  person  with  me  to  my  house. 
By  the  way  we  met 
My  wife,  her  sister,  and  a  rabble  more 
Of  vile  confederates.     Along  with  them 
They  brought  one  Pinch,  a  hungry  lean-fac'd  villain, 
A  mere  anatomy,  a  mountebank, 
A  threadbare  juggler,  and  a  fortune-teller, 
A  needy,  hoUow-ey'd,  sharp-looking  wretch, 
A  living-dead  man  ;  this  pernicious  slave, 
Forsooth,  took  on  him  as  a  conjurer  ; 
And,  gazing  in  mine  eyes,  feeling  my  pulse. 
And  with  no  face,  as  'twere,  outfacing  me. 
Cries  out,  I  was  possess'd.     Then  all  together 
They  fell  upon  me,  bound  me,  bore  me  thence. 
And  in  a  dark  and  dankish  vault  at  home 
They  left  me  and  my  man,  both  bound  together ; 
Till,  gnawing  with  my  teeth  my  bonds  in  sunder, 
I  gain'd  my  freedom,  and  immediately 
Ran  hither  to  your  grace  ;  whom  I  beseech 
To  give  me  ample  satisfaction 

1.424.  [C.O.H.  46. 


Aci  V.I  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene I. 

For  these  deep  shames  and  great  indignities. 

Aug-.  My  lord,  in  truth,  thus  far  I  witness  with  him. 
That  he  din'd  not  at  home,  but  was  lock'd  out. 

Duke.  But  had  he  such  a  chain  of  thee  or  no  } 

Ang.  He  had,  my  lord  :  and  when  he  ran  in  here, 
These  people  saw  the  chain  about  his  neck. 

Sec.  Mer.  Besides,  I  will  be  sworn  these  ears  of  mine 
Heard  you  confess  you  had  the  chain  of  him, 
After  you  first  forswore  it  on  the  mart : 
And  thereupon  I  drew  my  sword  on  you  ; 
And  then  you  fled  into  this  abbey  here. 
From  whence,  I  think,  you're  come  by  miracle. 

Ant.  E.  I  never  came  within  these  abbey-walls ; 
Nor  ever  didst  thou  draw  thy  sword  on  me  : 
I  never  saw  the  chain.     So  help  me  heaven 
As  this  is  false  you  burden  me  withal  ! 

Duke.   Why,  what  an  intricate  impeach  is  this  ! 
I  think  you  all  have  drunk  of  Circe's  cup. 
If  here  you  hous'd  him,  here  he  would  have  been  ; 
If  he  were  mad,  he  would  not  plead  so  coldly:  — 
You  say  he  din'd  at  home;  the  goldsmith  here 
Denies  that  saying — Sirrah,  what  say  you.-* 

Dro.  E.  Sir, 
He  din'd  with  her  there,  at  the  Porpentine. 

Cour.   He  did  ;  and  from  my  finger  snatch'd  that  ring. 

Ant.  E.   'Tis  true,  my  liege ;  this  ring  I  had  of  her. 

Duke.  Saw'st  thou  him  enter  at  the  abbey  here .'' 

Cour.   As  sure,  my  liege,  as  I  do  see  your  grace. 

Duke.  Why,    this   is  strange, —  Go    call    the    abbess 
hither. — 

[Exit  ati  Attendant. 
I  tliink  you  are  all  mated  or  stark  mad. 

^Ege.   Most  mighty  duke,  vouchsafe  me  speak  a  word : 
Happily  I  see  a  friend  will  save  my  life. 
And  pay  the  sum  that  may  deliver  me. 

Duke.  Speak  freely,  Syracusian,  what  thou  wilt. 

yEgc.  Is  not  your  name,  sir,  call'd  Antipholus  .^ 
And  is  not  that  your  bondman  Dromio  } 

%Dro.  E.  Within  this  hour  I  was  his  bondman,  sir. 
But  he,  I  thank  him.gnaw'd  in  two  my  cords: 
Now  am  I  Dromio,  and  his  man  unbound. 

C.O.E.  47.]  I.  425. 


Act  K]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  IScene  I. 

^ge.  I'm  sure  you  both  of  you  remember  me. 

Dro.  E.  Ourselves  we  do  remember,  sir,  by  you ; 
For  lately  we  were  bound,  as  you  are  now. 
You  are  not  Pinch's  patient,  are  you,  sir.-* 

^ge.  Why  look  you  strange  on  me  .''  you  know  me  well. 

Ant.  E.  I  never  saw  you  in  my  life  till  now. 

^ge.  O,  grief  hath  chang'd  me  since  you  saw  me  last. 
And  careful  hours  with  Time's  deformed  hand 
Have  written  strange  defeatures  in  my  face  : 
But  tell  me  yet,  dost  thou  not  know  my  voice  .'* 

Ant.  E.  Neither. 

^ge.  Dromio,  nor  thou  .-* 

Dro.  E.  No,  trust  me,  sir,  nor  I. 

./Ege.  I  am  sure  thou  dost. 

Dro.  E.  Ay,  sir,  but  I  am  sure  I  do  not ;  and  whatso- 
ever a  man  denies,  you  are  now  bound  to  believe  him. 

^ge.   Not  know  my  voice  !  O,  time's  extremity, 
Hast  thou  so  crack'd  and  splitted  my  poor  tongue 
In  seven  short  years,  that  here  my  only  son 
Knows  not  my  feeble  key  of  untun'd  cares  "^ 
Though  now  this  grained  face  of  mine  be  hid 
In  sap-consuming  winter's  drizzled  snow. 
And  all  the  conduits  of  my  blood  froze  up. 
Yet  hath  my  night  of  life  some  memory, 
My  wasting  lamp  some  fading  glimmer  left. 
My  dull  deaf  ears  a  little  use  to  hear  : 
All  these  old  witnesses  —  I  cannot  err  — 
Tell  me  thou  art  my  son  Antipholus. 

Ant.  E.  I  never  saw  my  father  in  my  life. 

^ge.  But  seven  years  since,  in  Syracusa,  boy, 
Thou  know'st  we  parted  :  but  perhaps,  my  son. 
Thou  sham'st  t'  acknowledge  me  in  misery. 

Ant.  E.  The  duke,  and  all  that  know  me  in  the  city. 
Can  witness  with  me  that  it  is  not  so  : 
I  ne'er  saw  Syracusa  in  my  life. 

Duke.  I  tell  thee,  Syracusian,  twenty  years 
Have  I  been  patron  to  Antipholus,  * 

During  which  time  he  ne'er  saw  Syracusa  : 
I  see  thy  age  and  dangers  make  thee  dote. 

I.  4.26.  [C.O.E.  48. 


Acty.]  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene/. 

Re-etiter  Abbess,  with  Antipholus  of  Syracuse  and 
Dromio  of  Syracuse. 

Abb.  Most  mighty  duke,  behold  a  man  much  wrong'd. 

[A/l gather  to  see  them. 

Adr.  I  see  two  husbands,  or  mine  eyes  deceive  me. 

Duke.  One  of  these  men  is  Genius  to  the  other ; 
And  so  of  these.     Which  is  the  natural  man. 
And  which  the  spirit  }  wlio  deciphers  them  ? 

Dro.  S.  I,  sir,  am  Dromio  :  command  him  away. 

Dro.  E.  I,  sir,  am  Dromio  :  pray,  let  me  stay. 

Ant.  S.  yEgeon,  art  thou  not .''     or  else  his  ghost  } 

Dro.  S.  O,  my  old  master  !  who  hath  bound  him  here' 

Abb.  Whoever  bound  him,  I  will  loose  his  bonds, 
And  gain  a  husband  by  his  liberty. — 
Speak,  old  ALgeon,  if  thou  be'st  the  man 
That  hadst  a  wife  once  call'd  Emilia, 
That  bore  thee  at  a  burden  two  fair  sons : 
O,  if  thou  be'st  the  same  /Egeon,  speak, 
And  speak  unto  the  same  ytjiiilia  ! 

^ge.  If  I  dream  not,  thou  art  Emilia : 
If  thou  art  she,  tell  me  where  is  that  son 
That  floated  with  thee  on  the  fatal  raft  .-* 

Abb.  By  men  of  Epidamnum  he  and  I 
And  the  twin  Dromio,  all  were  taken  up  ; 
But  by  and  by  rude  fishermen  of  Corinth 
By  force  took  Dromio  and  my  son  from  them, 
And  me  they  left  with  those  of  Epidamnum. 
What  then  became  of  them  I  cannot  tell  ; 
I  to  this  fortune  that  you  see  me  in. 

Duke.  Why,  here  begins  his  morning  story  right  i 
These  two  Antipholus',  these  two  so  like, 
And  these  two  Dromios,  one  in  semblance, — 
Besides  her  urging  of  her  wreck  at  sea, — 
These  are  the  parents  to  these  children. 
Which  accidentally  are  met  together. — 
Antipholus,  thou  cam'st  from  Corinth  first  ? 

Ant.  S.  No,  sir,  not  I  ;  I  came  from  Syracuse. 

Duke.  Stay,  stand  apart ;  I  know  not  which  is  which. 

Ant  E.  I  came  from  Corinth,  my  most  gracious  lord, — 

Dro.  E.  And  I  with  him. 

CO.B.  49.]  I.  427. 


Aci  y.'i  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  [Scene/. 

Ant.  E.  Brought  to  this  town  by  that  most  famous  war- 
rior, 
Duke  Menaphon,  your  most  renowned  uncle. 

Adr.  Which  of  you  two  did  dine  with  me  to-day? 

Afit.  S.  I,  gentle  mistress. 

Adr.  And  are  not  you  my  husband  } 

Ant.  E.  No  ;  I  say  nay  to  that. 

Ant.  S.  And  so  do  I ;  yet  did  she  call  me  so  : 
And  this  fair  gentlewoman,  her  sister  here. 
Did  call  me  brother. —  [  To  Luc]  What  I  told  you  then, 
I  hope  I  shall  have  leisure  to  make  good  ; 
If  this  be  not  a  dream  I  see  and  hear. 

An^".  That  is  the  chain,  sir,  which  you  had  of  me. 

Ant.  S.  I  think  it  be,  sir ;  I  deny  it  not. 

Ant.  E.  And  you,  sir,  for  this  chain  arrested  me. 

Ang.  I  think  I  did,  sir ;  I  deny  it  not. 

Adr.  I  sent  you  money,  sir,  to  be  your  bail. 
By  Dromio  ;  but  I  think  he  brought  it  not. 

Dro.  E.  No,  none  by  me. 

Ant.  S.    This  purse  of  ducats  I  receiv'd  from  you, 
And  Dromio  my  man  did  bring  them  me. 
I  see  we  still  did  meet  each  other's  man  ; 
And  I  was  ta'en  for  him,  and  he  for  me  ; 
And  thereupon  these  errors  are  arose. 

Ant.  E.  These  ducats  pawn  I  for  my  father  here. 

Duke.  It  shall  not  need  ;  thy  father  hath  his  life. 

Cour.  Sir,  I  must  have  that  diamond  from  you. 

Ant.  E.  There,  take  it ;  and  much  thanks  for  my  good 
cheer. 

Abb.  Renowned  duke,  vouchsafe  to  take  the  pains 
To  go  with  us  into  the  abbey  here. 
And  hear  at  large  discoursed  ail  our  fortunes  ;  — 
And  all  that  are  assembled  in  this  place. 
That  by  this  sympathized  one  day's  error 
Have  suffer'd  wrong,  go  keep  us  company, 
And  Nve  shall  make  full  satisfaction. — 
Twenty-five  years  have  I  but  gone  in  travail 
Of  you,  my  sons  ;  and,  till  this  present  hour, 
My  heavy  burden  ne'er  delivered. — 
The  duke,  my  husband,  and  my  children  both. 
And  you  the  calendars  of  their  nativity, 

I.  428.  [C.O.E.  50. 


Act  ^O  THE  COMEDY  OF  ERRORS.  {Scene  I. 

Go  to  a  gossips'  feast,  and  joy  with  me ; 
After  so  long  grief,  such  felicity  ! 
Duke.  With  all  my  heart,  I'll  gossip  at  this  feast. 

[^Exeunl  Duke,  Abbess,  yEgeon,  Courtesan,  Sec. 
Mercha7it,  Angela,  and  Attendants. 
Dro.  S.  Master,  shall  I  go  fetch  your  stuff  from  ship- 
board ? 
Ant.  E.  Dromio,   what   stuff  of   mine   hast  thou    em- 

bark'd  ? 
Dro.  S.  Your  goods  that  lay  at  host,   sir,  in  the  Cen- 
taur. 
Ant.  S.  He  speaks  to  me. —  I  am  your  master,  Dromio  : 
Come,  go  with  us  ;   we'll  look  to  that  anon  : 
Embrace  thy  brother  there  ;  rejoice  with  him. 

[Exeunt  Ant  S.  and  Ant.  E.,  Adr.  and  Luc. 
Dro.  S.  There  is  a  fat  friend  at  your  master's  house, 
That  kitchen'd  me  for  you  to-day  at  dinner  : 
She  now  shall  be  my  sister,  not  my  wife. 
Dro.  E.   Methinks   you   are   my  glass,    and   not     my 
brother : 
I  see  by  you  I  am  a  sweet-fac'd  youth. 
Will  you  walk  in  to  see  their  gossiping  } 
Dro.  S.    Not  I,  sir ;   you  are  my  elder. 
Dro.  E.  That's  a  question  :   how  shall  we  try  it  ? 
Dro.  S.    We'll  draw  cuts  for  the  senior :   till  then  lead 

thou  first. 
Dro.  E.   Nay,  then,  thus  :  — 
We  came  into  the  world  like  brother  and  brother ; 
And  now  let's  go  hand  in  hand,  not  one  before  another. 

S^Exeunt. 


c.o.E.  51.1  I.  429 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

Santa  Barbara 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW. 


Series  9482 


3  1205  03058  6364 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A  A  001  400  513  6 


